


Heirs

by 0athSworn



Series: Strangers and Heirs [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Elven love, Eregion, F/M, Mirkwood, Rhovanion, Rivendell, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-26 22:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 80,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0athSworn/pseuds/0athSworn
Summary: Follow the epic story of Alinor and Aldariil, a prince and princess of the Royal House of Mirkwood, along with their family and companions, as they come to discover their twisted places in the center of a war that has been brewing for ages: where Elf fights Elf, the forces of Light must battle the Darkness, and the powers of Rivendell, Mirkwood, and the Istari face off against the will of Sauron, his Orcs, and the fallen Dark Elves.Return to Middle-Earth and enjoy the tale of the rarely seen times before the events of "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings".Follow this amazing tale, striving to honor the works of J.R.R. Tolkien as much as possible, and meet many of your favorites, such as Thranduil, Legolas, Elrond and his twin sons Elladan and Elrohir, Glorfindel, the Dragons, Maedhros, Sauron and the One Ring, and many others...I hope you will enjoy the tale, as many others have, and be sure to read in order:Strangers ~ Part IHeirs ~ Part IIKin ~ Part III





	1. Heirs ~ Prologue

Be careful who you trust,  
For they might tell a lie.

Be careful who you trust,  
For they might take your life.


	2. Heirs ~ Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow the epic story of Alinor and Aldariil, a prince and princess of the Royal House of Mirkwood, along with their family and companions, as they come to discover their twisted places in the center of a war that has been brewing for ages: where Elf fights Elf, the forces of Light must battle the Darkness, and the powers of Rivendell, Mirkwood, and the Istari face off against the will of Sauron, his Orcs, and the fallen Dark Elves.
> 
> Return to Middle-Earth and enjoy the tale of the rarely seen times before the events of "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings".
> 
> Follow this amazing tale, striving to honor the works of J.R.R. Tolkien as much as possible, and meet many of your favorites, such as Thranduil, Legolas, Elrond and his twin sons Elladan and Elrohir, Glorfindel, the Dragons, Maedhros, Sauron and the One Ring, and many others...
> 
> I hope you will enjoy the tale, as many others have, and be sure to read in order: 
> 
> Strangers ~ Part I   
> Heirs ~ Part II  
> Kin ~ Part III

Alinor sat up slowly in her bed, so as not to awaken her brother, and rubbed her face gently with a hand. She was unable to sleep, her mind racing with thoughts of her father’s tale and the beast she had encountered in the Fire-Mountain. 

She looked down briefly at Aldariil, sleeping silently next to her, and decided not to rouse him for company. She slid from the covers, then reached back across and pulled them up to her younger brother’s chin, tucking him in better.

It had been many hours since everyone had gone to sleep, and Alinor could not just stay in bed, staring at the ceiling, until the sun rose. She hoped to slip past Garrik and Raebidus, who had been given the living-room space to sleep in, and go outside for a bit of fresh air, and, perhaps, to check on her newest companion, Forwen. 

Yaeran and Naelue were staying in Aldariil’s room, so she did not have to worry of sneaking past them also, since her brother’s chamber was behind her own.

She walked silently along the smooth floor of the hall and paused in the shadows of the doorway to the living room, surveying both sleeping mats made from blankets on the floor. The room was quite bright, as the moon was full, and there were many windows in the home that Aldaraen had constructed himself.

Raebidus was sleeping on one side of the room, breaths loud, as was expected from a Man, but the mat that should have held Garrik’s form was empty.

Worry touched her heart, and Alinor felt ashamed, for she would not have felt so before, she knew, had she not heard her family’s dreadful tale before bed.

She padded past Raebidus, listening carefully to the rhythm of his breathing, but it did not change.

Immediately upon stepping out into the crisp air, Alinor scanned the glen for Garrik, closing the door silently behind her, and swallowed in relief when she saw him, his steed, Mel, laying at his side. 

Garrik was sitting in the soft grass, arm around Mel’s neck, leaning against the mare, and Alinor could not see if he was sleeping or not, for his back was to her.

He seemed to be glowing in the moonlight for the white clothing he wore, his shortened black hair stark against the large tunic. He was motionless, the only movement being the gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees and swaying the grass.

Alinor glanced back inside, thinking of her father, who had gone to bed with a weapon, no doubt, but she decided to approach the Avari Elf. He had posed no threat thus far, and she had no reason to distrust him so. The brothers had saved her life, and, quite obviously, had known nothing concerning the things Aldaraen had recounted.

As Alinor approached, Mel glanced back at her lazily, then stood slowly and plodded away back towards the stable, ears angled in the direction of the Elves.

Garrik, she was sure, was aware of her coming, but he remained sitting, head bowed.

“LuckChild?” Alinor said quietly once she had reached his side, but Garrik didn’t look up to her, muttering instead,

“I know that is no longer my name. I am Garrik, Son of Garran. Son of a murderer,” he said, then looked to her bitterly, at last, when she sat, “I have no surname yet, so that is what I shall be called, Alinor Aldarion, Princess of Mirkwood, Daughter of the Royal Prince.”

Alinor sighed and looked forward, as well, towards the river, sliding along quietly through the trees. “I did not wish to tell you for many reasons. Distrust or fear of disbelief being chief amongst them, I’ll admit. I did not truly know you. I still do not. It has been but a few days since we first met,” she responded evenly, “What would you have had me to do, tell you everything of myself and my family in our first meeting?”

It was Garrik’s turn to sigh now, and he answered softly, “I know this, I am sorry. I am…very much…in shock,” he looked at Alinor again, black eyes wide and sorrowful as he whispered, “I am so sorry that my People took the lives of your family and friends…It is…heinous. They have destroyed so much.”

“You are not your father, nor did you play any part in the past,” Alinor reached a hand out to him, “None of the past was your fault. Be glad you are not blinded by the Thing that had taken your People’s hearts, as well. I believe your surname given by your foster parents should remain LuckChild, as you were quite blessed to be taken away from the disease that had stricken your People.”

“Your father wished to murder me for my coloring,” Garrik bowed his head again, “Why do you not have such hate for me? You have every right.”

“My father wished to kill you for you resemble your own father very much, not for your coloring, I think,” Alinor replied, “But I did not have hatred for you because I was never truly exposed to all that the Avari had done, among many reasons. Another being that I had not a clue of what Race you were. I care not, really. It is your heart that matters.”

“I almost wish I had not heard of my father and his history, at all,” Garrik said sourly, “I feel awful, for I have brought pain back to your father’s—“

“Do not feel this way,” Alinor said quickly, “My father must learn to not allow such things to affect him so greatly. If we can help you and your brother, then we shall. We will not turn you away, nor slay you, just for who your father was. I know that Aldaraen will not harm you further unless you give him reason to…he loathes to take the lives of things. But when his family is threatened, he cares not.”

“What sort of fate is it to drive us together in this manner?” Garrik said quietly, tension visibly leaving his shoulders. He shook his head slowly, “Am I meant to spoil your family’s lives or are you meant to enlighten mine in some way.”

“Perhaps you are meant to enlighten my family,” Alinor smiled at him gently, “Perhaps you are meant to enlighten all of Mirkwood. Whatever the Valar have in mind, I think it is rather obvious that you are not to wage war with us,” she laughed gently at the mere thought, “You are far too sweet of heart and mind, if you pardon the expression…at least, from the little I have grown to know you.”

“I still think that all your father sees in me is Garran. I ought to just come out and ask him,” Garrik smiled at her a bit weakly, “We shall see how I and my…brother’s…relationship with your family progresses. If I prove myself worthy, I am sure there is much you can teach me. Us.”

“And perhaps vice versa,” Alinor waved her hands fluidly, “As time goes on, I am sure you will grow on Aldaraen. He is that way.” She smiled at Garrik encouragingly, “For now, however, perhaps you should remain inside where he left you, so that when he looks for you, he will not be frightened to find you gone.”

“Good idea, that,” Garrik stood and let Alinor take his hand as he pulled her up, as well, “What will this day hold?”

“You will return to your home, probably,” Alinor said briefly, “I’m not entirely certain. But we must find a way to continue visiting one another. I very much wish to teach you of the ways of the Elven folk.”

“Where are you going to, my lady?” Garrik asked her hurriedly as Alinor strode past him and made her way towards the stables, signaling her closure of the almost awkward discussion.

“I will care for Forwen, my new mount. You need get back inside, however…And Garrik?” Alinor paused and looked over her shoulder, gaze deathly serious, “It’s just…Alinor.”

~~~

Aldaraen was seated on the bed, head lowered, as Faerlin rewrapped his arm securely with a bandage, having finished laying another healing spell over it.

“You snapped your bone in half, Aldaraen,” she said quietly, but her husband remained silent, eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed tightly together.

She crouched slightly before him, in order to see his face, and touched the arm in the sling gently, saying, “Heavy bear?” meaning it as a joke.

He looked at her slowly, a small smile gracing his face as if to question what she had just said. “No, it was rather light, actually,” he answered her, then sighed and blinked slowly, adding, “I’m sorry if I am being rather grumpy. I do not mean to. My head is full of many thoughts.”

“Mine, as well,” Faerlin reached out and touched a large bruise under his eye, “You should be worrying for your health. Winter is near.”

“Mere scratches and bruises,” he stood and stretched, arching his back inwards. He motioned to the sling and added, “And, I forgot, a wee broken bone. No matter. I’ve broken my foot before. That, my dear, was far worse in pain.”

“When you misjudged a leap for the river in Mirkwood from the top of a very tall tree,” Faerlin smiled at him when she remembered, “You tried your best not to shed a tear.”

“Yes. My stupidity in those years was embarrassing,” Aldaraen grinned at her, then finished, “I am going to check on our very interesting guests, then we’ll prepare breakfast for them. I know that Men are usually hungry at this hour.”

“Those two might not be awake yet, use stealth so as not to awake them or the Elflings. They were up late into the night,” Faerlin said after him.

~

Aldaraen stepped silently into the living room and paused, glancing about the space in surprise. 

The blankets were already neatly folded and stacked in a chair, but the brothers were nowhere to be seen.

The brilliant orange sunrise blazed a path down the floor through the strangely open door, and the cool breeze brought a pleasant draft through the house.

He stepped into the doorway and waited for his gaze to adjust to the bright light, putting a hand to his forehead as the wind blew chill against his face.

He spotted individuals near the gardens that provided food for his family during most months, the slowly forming figures hovering about under the fruit trees.

When he could make them out, Aldariil was perched atop young Raebidus’ shoulders, reaching desperately for an apple above him, the two sharing in laughter at what they knew must be a ridiculous sight.

Aldaraen felt slightly protective upon observing the red-haired man holding his young Elfling aloft in such a manner, and had to immediately remind himself that the children of ‘monsters’ were not monsters themselves. 

He took a step towards them and saw his daughter setting down buckets of water for the six horses prancing impatiently about her by the stables, their breath billowing like smoke in the cold air.

Aldaraen was just beginning to wonder about where Garrik had gotten to when the young Avari Elf trotted from around the house to stand in front him, startling him badly at the unexpected, swift appearance.

He could see by the young Elf’s expression that he was terribly embarrassed that Aldaraen had jumped so at his arrival, and Aldaraen said quickly, “You startled me, lad, is all. What do you have there?”

“Alinor said we could help gather from the trees this morning for breakfast, and also save the late fruit from the frost,” Garrik extended the basket he held in his arms and smiled, tilting his head, “For being a Prince, my lord, I believe your family picked up on the ways of agriculture swiftly. My brother and I struggle for most of the year to bring in fruit such as this.”

“I was actually taught of farming and of the things of the land during my young years of tutelage. You’d be surprised how much you can learn in a mere 100 years’ time,” Aldaraen took the basket from the young Avari with his good arm and added carefully, “It is a pity you have seen so many years go by without the proper learning, but, with certain arrangements, I would be glad to learn you and, perhaps, your brother, of farming and gardening in the ways of the Silvan Elves. Among other things, of course.”

“Raebidus would be very pleased,” Garrik held his hands behind his back, then glanced over his shoulder towards his brother and Aldariil, “When would we…discuss these arrangements?” He turned back to Aldaraen with wide, excited black eyes, “I am most eager to begin learning. I have wished for this often and sent prayers to the Valar concerning the matter.”

“How is it that you and your brother respect and love the Valar?” Aldaraen asked suddenly.

“Our father and mother, or Raebidus’ parents, really, raised us that way,” Garrik answered, “Why, may I ask, my lord?”

“For the Raebdon that I knew of worshiped only the Dark One,” Aldaraen looked seriously at the young Avari, “But it is well, lad, that you have a love for the Valar. My brother was right in his thinking that the Avari and Brigands would be freed of the black magic laid upon their hearts the further they retreated from Mirkwood. Tis a pity the Wood is so poisoned upon their departure, however. My guess is perhaps Raebdon and his wife’s hearts and minds were cleared.”

“That is a good thing, is it not?” Garrik questioned, head still tilted.

“It is, lad,” Aldaraen gave him a small smile, still finding it difficult to believe that the Avari he was faced with was the dark Garran’s son, “You may continue helping your brother in the gardens, or Faerlin and Naelue in the kitchen. It is your choice, since this is all volunteered work on your behalf.” He motioned towards Raebidus with a smile, “But it makes you all the more welcome, I must admit. Especially since my arm went and broke itself.”

Garrik nodded with a smile, appreciating the elder Elf’s attempt at good-naturedness. He decided to follow Aldaraen into the house to help the She-Elves, having a desire to be with the grown Elves and to hear their talk. 

Now that he had found an Elven family, Elvish companions, he nearly felt that he would not wish to depart.

It felt…right.

~~~

Garrik stood quietly in the doorway to the kitchen for a few moments before making a quiet noise to announce himself.

Naelue and Faerlin both turned and observed him silently with slightly enlarged eyes, but they seemed to remember their manners and Naelue said quietly, “Young Garrik, do you need aid in something?”

“No, actually, I was hoping I might be able to aid you in some manner,” Garrik answered, “May I?”

“Of course,” Faerlin smiled at him now and motioned for him to advance, “I have not had the pleasure of working with an Avari before. Ta naa Seasamin.”

Garrik was surprised at her comment and, as he walked slowly into the kitchen, said quickly, “I’m afraid that I know naught of their…customs. I have nothing to share with you.”

“That is fine! I merely enjoy being able to observe one so closely without fearing for my life,” Faerlin laughed.

Garrik felt stung, but he knew she didn’t mean what she had said in an offensive manner.

“Do I look much like…like my father?” he asked instead, hoping to talk on the subject so as not to make it taboo.

“Oh yes, quite, from the short times I glimpsed him,” Faerlin replied, handing vegetables to him to peel, “You have your father’s great height, even at such a young age! Your coloring, of course. But it is your face that resembles him so closely. That cute little turned-up nose, though—”

Garrik found himself staring at Faerlin in unavertable attention as she talked, seemingly absent-mindedly, chopping vegetables, so he took a sharp intake of breath when Naelue’s hand came from behind him and held his cheek, pulling his face towards her so she might look at him.

“You have your mother’s eyes, though. That is why your face seems so gentle and kind. To me, at least. Everything you feel is portrayed so vividly in their dark depths, young one,” Naelue interrupted, and Faerlin merely paused, nodding in agreement.

“You…You met my mother?” Garrik asked quietly, feeling his heart throb slightly.

“What my husband failed to account to you was the aftermath of the final confrontation between our Peoples,” Faerlin stopped her busy chopping and looked up at Garrik, as well, “Aldaraen…never truly made clear the pity and the…the care that he felt for your mother, which, at the time, was just an Avari She-Elf, to us. He wouldn’t leave that field until he had made sure that the Avari would take her body away, saying that he would give her a proper burial himself, if they did not.”

“We collected our fallen first, and I was there to aid the soldiers, quite a long story and I will bore you with the details later,” Naelue waved her hand slightly, “But I saw your mother, yes. Absolutely beautiful, she was. And you could not tell her manner of death by merely gazing upon her. She looked only as if she were merely staring up into the sky. It is a miracle that you survived.”

“Aldaraen shed many unexplainable tears over her,” Faerlin said quietly, “Only a few weeks later did he finally tell me all that had happened during his time in our Enemy’s shelter. 

He still remembers very little, but she was quite clear to him.”

“I wish I could have known her,” Garrik swallowed and looked down, “But I was loved as a son by Raebidus’ parents, when they could have let me perish. I am very blessed and have no room to complain.”

Faerlin continued to gaze at him sadly, then finally began to chop again, but Naelue patted Garrik on the back to lighten the mood again and laughed, “One thing is for certain, lad, I have never seen, nor heard of, an Elf with a splashing of freckles across their nose and cheeks, such as your own.”

“I burn easily in the sun, what with this pale, creamy skin and all,” Garrik laughed too, rubbing self-consciously at his nose, “They are very light, though. Raebidus’ are red, like his hair.”

“I’ll say. You two make quite the pair to look at,” Faerlin smiled, and Garrik mirrored the expression as he began his task of peeling vegetables, feeling, at last, quite welcome and safe in this new company.

~~~


	3. Heirs ~ Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow the epic story of Alinor and Aldariil, a prince and princess of the Royal House of Mirkwood, along with their family and companions, as they come to discover their twisted places in the center of a war that has been brewing for ages: where Elf fights Elf, the forces of Light must battle the Darkness, and the powers of Rivendell, Mirkwood, and the Istari face off against the will of Sauron, his Orcs, and the fallen Dark Elves.
> 
> Return to Middle-Earth and enjoy the tale of the rarely seen times before the events of "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings".
> 
> Follow this amazing tale, striving to honor the works of J.R.R. Tolkien as much as possible, and meet many of your favorites, such as Thranduil, Legolas, Elrond and his twin sons Elladan and Elrohir, Glorfindel, the Dragons, Maedhros, Sauron and the One Ring, and many others...
> 
> I hope you will enjoy the tale, as many others have, and be sure to read in order: 
> 
> Strangers ~ Part I  
> Heirs ~ Part II   
> Kin ~ Part III

“When will you visit us next?” Faerlin asked, watching as Raebidus and Garrik mounted their steeds, holding the reins securely, “Did you discuss such with Aldaraen?”

“We did not,” Aldaraen answered loudly for the two as he cantered Yaeran’s borrowed mount from the stables, “We will discuss that once we arrive at their home. They have offered, also, to show me their residence.”

“Garrik did,” Raebidus muttered quietly.

“I will return before the night is through. This time, for certain,” Aldaraen smiled at his wife before turning the horse, his injured arm held securely against his body, “I follow you, Raebidus and Garrik.”

“Ada, let me go with you!” Alinor dashed forward and laid a hand on the shoulder of her father’s mount, stopping it, “Please, let me accompany you.”

“Certainly not,” Faerlin interjected, “Your shoulder—“

“You may, if you so wish,” Aldaraen gave a gentle look to Faerlin and her voice trailed away. He spurred his steed forward a few steps, finishing over his shoulder, “Fetch Forwen and we’ll be away.”

Aldaraen did not hear a response and he turned with raised eyebrows when he heard the two brothers spur their own horses forward in a quick trot to catch up to him.

Garrik reached down as he passed Alinor and grasped the wrist of her extended hand, swinging her seemingly effortlessly up behind him.

Aldaraen felt his lips pursing as he listened to his daughter giggle her thanks, wrapping her arms tightly about the young Avari Elf’s waist.

This bothered him, as he knew it shouldn’t, for it was merely the innocence of the two young Elves before him.

“Let’s go then, as it seems Ali’ has found her own transport,” Raebidus laughed, trotting past Aldaraen and beckoning to him, “Come, Master Elf, I’d like to arrive home before nightfall and it is a couple hours ride away.”

“Hurry, Ada!” Alinor called over her shoulder with a laugh of her own, “You cannot afford to be beaten!”

“It is a race now?” Aldaraen muttered to himself, but he urged Yaeran’s steed forward swiftly nonetheless.

~~~

Garrik glanced to his left when he noticed Raebidus’ galloping mount slowly inching closer to his own, and his brother met his eyes with a narrowed gaze. 

Confused, Garrik finished closing the distance, conscious of Alinor behind him, but before he could question Raebidus’ irritation, his brother hissed, “You invited Aldaraen to come to our dwelling so that he would gain more trust in us, did you not?”

Garrik was slightly hurt and replied, “Of course. If I am to be mentored by his family, I do not wish for him to be wary of me in any way.”

“His hate for our parents and People still burns hot, brother. I was not yet ready for this,” Raebidus growled, and pulled his steed away once more, blue eyes still narrowed.

“Your brother is filled with uncertainty,” Alinor said quietly into Garrik’s ear, “This is certainly one way to build distrust in others. You are hiding something. Something you do not deem with such privacy as your brother.”

“Yes. Your intuition continues to surprise me. But your family was straight-forward with us, and we should return the gesture,” Garrik answered, “I do not find what we are to show you very terrible. If Raebidus is so frightened, then he must be hiding something from me, as well. Something I have always wondered of,” He looked darkly at his brother and finished, “Perhaps he is ready or forced to reveal it.”

~~~

“Here we are,” Raebidus held the door to their home open as Aldaraen ducked slightly, walking inside, followed by Garrik, “I’ll take your cloaks, if you wish.”

“Thank you,” Aldaraen took his daughter’s, then handed it and his own to Raebidus, “This is a nice home, Raebidus. Very nice. Did your parents have a large family?”

“No,” Raebidus answered, draping the cloaks across a chair, “But I…I fancy they might have believed they would have a wee bit more children than just me.” He laughed and finished, “It was great fun growing up here.”

“Raebidus’ rule was downstairs, and I ruled upstairs,” Garrik smiled, “Alinor stayed in my old chambers while she was unconscious, but they remain a guest’s quarters, of sorts, now. We just…never have visitors.”

“You don’t mingle in Gwemyr?” Aldaraen’s face was as expressionless as his daughter’s while questioning, and Raebidus, personally, began to feel uncomfortable.

“We usually keep to ourselves. Especially Garrik, he is quite shy,” Raebidus replied, leaning against the wall as they talked, before the ‘tour’, “We farm all that we need. We rarely go to Gwemyr. Besides, we don’t need any ruffians knowing that a residence as such is maintained by merely two gangly brothers.”

“Hardly,” Aldaraen’s piercing blue gaze flicked Raebidus and his brother up and down swiftly before he added, “You are quite wealthy, then?”

Garrik could see his brother’s ears grow red, so he stepped in, answering truthfully, “We have valuables, yes. Things we would hate to lose…”

“How is it your parents came to afford such an abode? They left my Realm in tatters…” 

“Ada,” Alinor sounded embarrassed by her father’s words, and he looked at her briefly.

Raebidus wondered what was shared between the two Elves in that one glance, for Alinor bowed her head slightly, and he also wondered if, perhaps, Garrik might have interpreted the silent communication differently than he, being one of…them.

He felt a twist of jealousy. 

Not for Garrik being an Elf, but for the fact that his brother might relate, now, closer with the ones of his own Race, rather than him.

“Well, this is the main room, as you can see,” Garrik cleared his throat as he began, breaking the silence. He held his arms out, walking backwards, “My adopted mother made the rugs from furs. I will be referring to her as Mom.” He smiled. “Large fireplace here, and chairs to sit about it. We enjoyed the evenings the best. After all the work was done, we could eat and Father would tell us stories.”

“Who crafted these pillars?” Alinor asked, running her hand along the smooth wood in fascination, “Their carving is spectacular.”

“Oh, Garrik did that in his spare time. He was only in his 40’s, so he needed a step-ladder,” Raebidus smirked at the thought of Elvish age again, “Mom and Da were quite pleased, as you can guess.”

“You did this?” Aldaraen was examining the work now himself, “It is beautiful, especially for having no formal training.”

“He has always had an artistic eye. He bites his lip whilst he works,” Raebidus laughed, then motioned to the wall now, “He painted that.”

“You’re an artist,” Aldaraen sounded slightly stunned as he gazed at the large mural of scenery, “Who would have thought.”

“My mother enjoys painting and sketching,” Alinor said to Garrik, “You might flourish in working alongside her. She would have many good things to share with you.”

“I’m sure that she is far better than I, as I saw the artwork in your own home,” Garrik was blushing, “But thank you. It took me many days to construct the mural.”

“You are talented. You create good things with your hands,” Aldaraen nodded slowly, but spoke no further.

Garrik was rocking slightly, hands behind his back, but his small smile was pleased.

Raebidus took the lead again, bringing the two Elves through the kitchen and dining area, then showing them the two lower chambers in which he and Garrik now slept.

There was a library, also, which fascinated Aldaraen, but they moved through it quickly, Raebidus telling him that he could spend more time there later, if he so wished.

Moving upstairs, Alinor dutifully recognized the small chamber that she had resided in during her short stay, and Raebidus smiled, saying, “Finally, this room came to be useful.”

When the group came at last back onto the balustrade area of the second floor, Raebidus stopped and clapped his hands together, stating, “Well, that’s about it. You can still make it back to your home before it is too late. Would you like some bread or some such before you depart? I don’t particularly know what Elves eat…”

“Thank you very much for your tour, Raebidus and Garrik,” Aldaraen smiled at them, then pointed abruptly at a room at the end of the walkway upstairs, “But what is that room, may I ask?”

“Just a storage room, really,” Garrik began, “It’s where—“

“It’s a storage room. I don’t particularly wish for you to see it, as it is quite cluttered, and I don’t think you would—“ Raebidus interrupted his brother, but Aldaraen interrupted the Man, saying himself,

“I’d love to see it. In fact, I was thinking of adding a storage room directly to our own home, and I’d like to see how it…fits together, say.”

“Don’t worry about it being cluttered,” Alinor giggled, smiling at Raebidus as if not sensing the immediate tension, “Elves are not entirely tidy either. At least, I am not!”

Raebidus offered a very different sort of smile, then stared for a moment at Aldaraen, who returned the expression coolly. 

“Lead on, Garrik, as this was your idea,” Raebidus turned his shining gaze to his brother, who immediately looked slightly confused.

He covered quickly and began trotting towards the door, beckoning to them to follow, saying, “Come along, we will hurry so you are not too late in arriving back to your home.”

“There is no real rush,” Aldaraen answered absently, clasping his hands behind his back as he strode past Raebidus, who took up the rear.

Garrik walked into the storage room without hesitation and stood, waiting with a smile for the others to follow him in.

It was fairly large and the shelves lining the walls were filled with folded blankets and sheets, jars of what Aldaraen could see were medicinal items, some herbs, and simple things of the such.

Underneath the shelves, that stretched from very high along the wall to nearly 3 feet above the floor, great chests rested, covered in dust, and obviously having not been handled in quite a long time. 

In the middle of the floor, pushed against the wall farthest opposite of them, stood a small table with a decorated box resting on top of it. 

This seemed to have been handled more recently, although there was still a thin coat of dust covering it. It looked important, and Aldaraen’s attention was immediately attacted to it.

“What…is that?” Aldaraen asked quietly, pointing at it, and looked to Raebidus.

The young Man looked pointedly at Garrik, who shrugged, as if not understanding the sudden leadership thrust upon him.

“My family’s heirlooms,” Garrik answered honestly, although he didn’t move.

Aldaraen looked hard into his black eyes and said, “May we see? Your family’s history…intrigues me.”

“Of course,” Garrik smiled, “You might recognize a few things, my lord. Perhaps you may be able to tell me of some of them, for I do not know that much. If my foster parents told Raebidus more…he has not shared it with me.” His ending statement sounded as if it contained an edge of ice directed at his brother, who was dumping the talking solely on him, but Raebidus did not react.

Garrik lead Aldaraen to the decorated box and opened it carefully.

Aldaraen stood with him, while his daughter desperately tried to see around him.

“Most of these things I am afraid I cannot tell you much of, for, until yesterday, I was not aware of my kinship to the Elves slayed upon this mountain,” Garrik’s eyebrows furrowed, “There is much still missing from this tale, I think.”

Aldaraen smiled wryly at Garrik, agreeing, “Indeed.”

“Raebidus…do you--?”

“I might,” Raebidus interrupted his brother, squeezing next to him and reaching into the box himself.

“You know more than you are saying, Raebidus,” Aldaraen said suddenly, gaze ever so slightly narrowed, “We were completely honest with you, now…it is your turn.”

“It is not polite to read people’s minds,” Raebidus said dryly, and Aldaraen looked offended, saying,

“I did not read your mind. I simply feel it in your…in your presence. I am not capable of such things.”

“Why wouldn’t you share with me things that Mama and Da told you? About me, especially? You knew how much it meant to me,” Garrik looked hurt, “You always said you knew nothing, except for what we have already shared.”

“Father told me to wait until I was sure of…” Raebidus faded away before shaking his head angrily and reaching into the box, pulling forth a necklace.

“This—“ he began with a sigh, stroking it once with one finger before handing it to Aldaraen, “This was your mother’s, Garrik. Not your Nurse, but, Vilna, we now know to be her name.”

Aldaraen’s blue eyes grew round and he said quietly, “She wore this when she…when she cared for me. When I was young, and…” He stopped talking and gazed long upon it, then kissed it and murmured, “Lle nostale coia no' ten'oio e' amin fea ar' nowe.”

Raebidus swallowed and added, “Father said he found it on your father’s, Garran’s, chest, where he lay.”

“So Garran is truly dead,” Aldaraen looked at him sharply.

“Yes, according to my father,” Raebidus responded.

“You knew who my father was and yet you never told me?” the distress in Garrik’s voice was apparent.

“Father never told me the name, only that your father was murdered along with the rest of the Elves,” Raebidus said evenly, honestly, “I knew no more of names and the such as you did.”

Garrik happily accepted the necklace from Aldaraen and he held it tightly in his hands, expression grieved as he held it absently against his heart.

“There is not much more of significance. Various jewelry, mostly. My father’s circlet, his ring…” Raebidus held up his hands after putting them into the box and let the jewelry he described fall back into its depths.

Aldaraen leaned forward, to Raebidus’ obvious surprise, and looked into the box himself before reaching a hand in and pulling forth a circlet with a deep, black jewel intertwined in silver resting at its apex.

His eyebrows were raised when he turned to Garrik and said slowly, “Do you have any idea what this is?”

“Just a circlet that Father took from the Elves, for its beauty,” Garrik answered, and glanced at Raebidus when his brother laughed a little sourly, “Or, so I was told. Why, was it also my mother’s?”

“It was your father’s while he was Lord of the Avari,” Aldaraen said quietly, looking down at it, “I saw this many a time upon his white brow and hoped to never lay eyes upon it again.”

There was a long pause, then Aldaraen said slowly, “I can still feel his aura about it, or…perhaps…this is merely my paranoid disposition when thinking on him.” He paused a long time again, then reached forward slowly and lowered it onto Garrik’s head, murmuring, “You are no longer merely the Prince of the Avari, lad. Were there still a People…you’d be their rightful King.” 

Garrik stared at him with wide, worried black eyes while Aldaraen gazed at him with an odd smile, his own gaze cold.

“Frightening,” he said at last, and Garrik took the circlet from his head quickly, saying,

“No, no. I will keep this as an heirloom, of course, but will never wear it as a crown. Never. I want nothing with the past and the actions my father committed,” he dropped it back into the box, “I am no Prince, and I am certainly no King. I would never wish to be, either.”

“Oh, but you are, young one,” Aldaraen looked back at the box as he finished quietly, “You cannot disclaim your own blood.”

No one spoke while Aldaraen finished his examination of the box’s contents, then he held up his last item to question, expressionless, although his hand was trembling slightly.

He displayed a few great, white scales, glimmering with many colors in the faint torchlight, almost like an opal, then asked, “Did your father not tell you of where these came from?”

Raebidus closed his eyes briefly, but Garrik merely shook his head, although the realization was clear upon his face.

“Raebidus,” Alinor spoke now, her own expression concerned, “How exactly was your father, who, we now know, knew much about dragons, so sure that the dead Fire-Mountain was a dragon’s nesting site..?”

“Because…”Raebidus’ gaze was wide and his voice contained a frightened edge to it, “He…”

“Is this a tale we should sit for?” Aldaraen said, although his tone was reserved.

“No, before he…before he passed on, he…he told me…only a little of what had happened. Of what you have told us, Aldaraen, although there was much, much that he excluded. Many of these things you might not know yourself.”

“Go on,” Aldaraen urged him, dropping the scales back into the box.

“He told me only that he had once raised a dragon and that his mind would forever be familiar with that of the beast’s. The white dragon wished to murder him for the loss of one of its dear friends and…and it nested here in the Fire-Mountain with a mate it had found, a SnowDrake—“

“A mate?” Aldaraen’s voice asked with a slight tremor, “You shall not tell me that there were Hatchlings.”

Raebidus continued to stare at him evenly, then bowed his head and said softly, “I would have kept this private had I not heard the true tale yesterday, but yes, there were Hatchlings, and that is one manner in which my father kept on good terms with the Dark Lord and Brigands. Brigands, I have seen with my own eyes, still under the poison of the Dark One. Threatening our family. They nearly murdered Garrik, whom they took for a Man-child. They knew not who he truly was, but that is far after the happenings of the fully grown Drakes. Father went in search of the dragon, for he retained a love for him now that the shadow of the Dark Lord had left his heart. The unlucky band of Avari were traveling the mountains when Father approached the cave entrance, which you saw yourselves. The female dragon had departed, which was custom, father has told us, but the male SnowDrake lingered for a while, the darkness being easy on…on an eye my father said had been pierced…”

Aldaraen looked up and met his gaze, almost sadly.

“The dragon flew into a rage despite Father’s apologetic words and the beast attempted to murder him, following him outside in a great wrath. The Avari Elves were resting there, unknown to my father, and the dragon slaughtered them all, believing the Elves and Men to still be in alliance and traveling together. Father barely escaped, but returned later, only finding Garrik alive. We do not know why he was not murdered.”

“Because he was Vilna’s son. Dragons are very wise. Perhaps he sensed kindness and purity in his heart, akin to his mother’s,” Alinor said softly, and Garrik lowered his head, “Perhaps Khelekmin is not so mad as is presumed.”

“The beast departed after the slaughter, not even attempting to make a meal from the bodies, and Father returned to bury them all, discovering Garrik in that way. He found 2 SnowDrake eggs in the Fire-Mountain and he took them home to care for them, as it is rare that young Hatchlings survive, his love for dragons having never been dowsed. Garrik and I saw the eggs occasionally, but Father would never allow us very close. It was forbidden in our household. The Dark Lord, of course, knew of all the goings-on, and the Brigands that still served him came to our abode to murder us all if Father did not give them the eggs. The Brigands found Garrik outside and presumed him as Raebdon’s blood-son, threatening to murder him unless Father handed over the eggs, holding Garrik at the throat. Father, of course, gave the eggs to them for Garrik’s sake, and we have seen naught of the Brigands since.”

“This has all been very recent, as you have not yet seen 20 years, no doubt,” Aldaraen’s eyes were round.

“You are correct, Master Elf. This is why Garrik and I remain here, for we do not wish to bring attention or danger to anyone or anything in Gwemyr. I would fancy the Dark One would wish to confiscate the offspring of two of his chief warlords, but he has yet to show his face after the incident with the Brigands stealing Khelekmin’s offspring. Father, after these things, began teaching Garrik and I all that he knew of dragons. He felt sure, also, that the two eggs he had retrieved had not been all the eggs, for he could only carry the two, and did not pause to search the nesting site thoroughly. We returned again and again to the Fire-Mountain to ensure that there was no dragon growing there, no danger, but we could find nothing. Father’s memory, at that time, was beginning to fail him. Father passed away not too many years ago, but he continually pushed Garrik and I to continue searching the caverns, and to continue watching. During his last days, he became a restless man. A very strange, withdrawn man. And I can understand now, why, most likely. He had many secrets.”

“If this was so short a time ago, do you know if the eggs taken by the Brigands have hatched?” Aldaraen asked.

“Yes, but only in the last few weeks, probably, if I remember all Father taught us,” Raebidus met Alinor’s gaze briefly and she cast her own to the ground, “Father thought that the Brigands would rather crush the eggs than attempt raising them, however, after seeing what happened with Khelekmin. I guess we shall never know.”

“Will the Dark Lord’s servants return here for you?” Aldaraen asked quietly.

“Possibly. That is why my brother and I are constantly on guard,” Raebidus answered, “We might be forced to move, for all we know.”

“Gwemyr…”

“Shall not be harmed, nor affected,” Raebidus interjected, cutting of Aldaraen’s worried beginnings, “The servants of the Dark Lord do not wish to draw attention to their actions, surely. Yet.”

“Ada, what if they…what if they discover us,” Alinor said softly.

“That is what I am also afraid of,” Aldaraen looked at Raebidus very hard, then added, “They would murder my family without a second thought.”

“There is no reason that they should know of your presence. Garrik and I had not a clue either,” Raebidus shrugged, “Believe me. Unless we are watched, which I know we are not, then you have nothing to fear.”

“I’ve been told that before many a time,” Aldaraen said quietly. He glanced around the room briefly before finishing, “How exactly did your parents afford such a residence? My earlier question was never answered…” 

Alinor seemed embarrassed again at her father’s blunt questioning, and Garrik and Raebidus both paused for a considerable length of time.

“They…sold many things. The other Brigands were with them when they passed originally through this area. Of course, the others scattered into Laketown, throughout the Iron Hills. Gwemyr does not house any, my father said. Each departing family divided up spoils they had…taken with them,” Raebidus answered at last, “There were not many Men left to scatter, as it was, after the battling and the long journey across the Wilderlands. Much of this makes more sense to me now that I…that I know the tale.”

“It is no tale,” Aldaraen said calmly, “I cannot help but feel as if you are running about the explanation of this fine abode. Finer, even, than some Merchants in Gwemyr, which, in itself, is a rather wealthy town. What exactly did your People sell?”

“I will not refer to murderers as my People, be they blood or not,” Raebidus said tightly, “But they sold items as they traveled through the Iron Hills, even so to the Merchants of Laketown. They accumulated wealth that way. The few who survived the journey this far, who eventually turned back for Laketown or to build their own abode in the Iron Hills, left most of the wealth to my parents.”

“Why?” Aldaraen asked unwaveringly.

“They…They were not proud of…of the means of…” Raebidus could not think swiftly enough, trailing his finger absent-mindedly across the top of one of the dusty, unhandled boxes below the shelves.

“What did they sell? For I have an idea,” Aldaraen’s nose crinkled slightly, a movement Raebidus immediately recognized from his short time with Alinor as the Elf rising to distrust swiftly.

“My lord, we did not know of what they were until last night, when we had heard the truth from you. Our father had always told us that—“ Garrik began, eyes wide, but Raebidus countered, 

“Master Elf, I apologize, but I believe that you are being a bit too prying and that our family’s business is our family’s business alone.”

“It seems your family’s business is also my People’s business,” Aldaraen said, his tone sounding lower than before. Without taking his gaze from the young Man before him, he pointed at the boxes beneath the shelves and finished, “I have been completely honest with you and have placed an unmitigated amount of trust upon the two of you. If you wish to continue this relationship, you will also be completely honest with my family. I understand that you and your brother have been in the dark concerning all that had happened in the past, but please…Open the boxes.”

“But they—“

Aldaraen interrupted Raebidus, smiling sourly, saying, “Believe me, I know that none of this is your doing. But your honesty would help your…standing. I believe I already know what those boxes contain, lad.”

Raebidus lingered a moment, then huffed loudly and yanked a box from beneath a shelf. He blew dust from the lid, then opened it slowly, hands shaking slightly with nerves.

Aldaraen stepped forward immediately and stared down at the contents. His expression became more grieved as he lifted an elegantly carved gauntlet and held it gently before him, silent.

“Is that a…a…” Alinor’s eyes grew wide and Garrik glanced at her before lowering his head, as if shamed.

“Yes. The armor of our People. The armor of Mirkwood,” Aldaraen looked slowly to Raebidus, not accusingly, although he seemed almost offended, “Stolen from the bodies of our fallen during the last confrontation. We were sure the Brigands had done it.”

“Our father did not tell us this, but during you speaking to us last night, I realized what these boxes held,” Raebidus said quietly, “They are extremely valuable, no doubt, for father only sold a few boxes.”

“Armor of Elven make is hard to come by,” Aldaraen said quietly, “Many families suffered pain for the loss of their family member’s armor.”

“It shames me to possess it,” Garrik said quietly, “What…What should we do with it?”

“Keep it, of course. It is yours to do whatever you wish,” Aldaraen examined a breastplate before backing away, “It would burn me more to see you bury it. There is naught I can do with it.”

“We may return it?” Garrik offered.

“That just proves your youth,” Aldaraen offered a small smile to the young Avari, then pushed the box back beneath the shelf with a boot, “I feel you two are completely harmless. I mean, in that way, that you may be trusted. You were told nothing by your parents, quite clearly.”

“If we ever go to Mirkwood, shall we return it?” Garrik tilted his head, still referring to the many boxes of armor.

“Mirk—“ Aldaraen broke away into a short laugh, “You would be mad to travel to Mirkwood.”

“With you?” Garrik smiled, “If I travel with you, then you may tell your People how the Avari were blinded. I wish to apologize to your People.”

“You wish… to apologize… to them,” Aldaraen said it not as a question.

“Yes. For everything the Avari did,” Garrik nodded enthusiastically, “There must be more Avari somewhere, having found a new home. Perhaps I can help bring peace between us, trade…”

“Maybe,” Aldaraen shook his head slightly, smiling as if comforting an Elfling, “That is long in coming, lad. You will return to us tomorrow to begin lessons, Garrik? You may lodge with us and Raebidus may remain here to tend to this residence.”

“Live…with you?” Garrik said in shock as Aldaraen jumped directly into “lesson plans”.

“Yes. Help me to construct a guest’s quarters and you may have it for a few years of tutelage. I’ve been meaning to add one for a long time now.”

“How would I repay you, my lord?” Garrik’s eyes were very wide.

“By giving to me your aid about our small farm. Aldariil is not grown enough, yet, to be of any real use for heavy labor,” Aldaraen smiled, “I would appreciate it greatly, especially these next couple months, what with my arm. What do you say?”

Garrik still seemed shocked at the sudden generosity, and he stared at Raebidus.

“It is what you have always dreamt of, Garrik,” Raebidus said quietly.

“You may come for occasional lessons too, if you so wish, Master Raebidus, to see your brother. We would be pleased for the companionship,” Aldaraen addressed the Man, “It would be well for Garrik to continue these crucial years of his young life with my Elven family. I do not mean that it is unhealthy for him here, but he would learn so much more of his People, the Elven Race, by staying with us. It would also be much simpler. If the point of his lessons are to be the learning of Elven ways, then I believe this is the best route.”

“I will pack tomorrow,” Garrik said breathlessly, “I cannot thank you enough, my lord. You are most open with your heart for all of the pain it has suffered from my People’s doing.”

“It was not you. And my trust goes with you,” Aldaraen pressed a hand to his chest before extending it towards the young Avari, “I never fully understood the hatred towards the Avari until near the end of my association with them, and I am glad at the chance to see that it was indeed merely the evil sorcery of the Dark One.”

“I will not disappoint you, my lord,” Garrik seemed about to burst with excitement, “I will aid you with the loyalty of a son!”

“A very odd son you would be,” Aldaraen raised his eyebrows at him in slight humor, “A very odd son, indeed.”

~~~

~ The next day…

“You are truly going to stay with them? For years? Truly?” Raebidus handed Garrik his few folded shirts and crossed his arms, feeling cross.

“Of course, Rae’,” Garrik answered, tightening the drawstrings on his single, large satchel. He smiled teasingly at his brother, “Besides, those few years are not very long to me. You can understand that.”

“Yes, but they’re extremely long for me, Garrik! And they’re not just a few,” Raebidus protested, “I will undoubtedly have gray in my hair by the time you wish to return permanently.”

Garrik paused and sighed, turning to look at him, “But this is what I want, Raebidus. I finally get to learn to ways of my People. Besides, it is not as if I am leaving for a place that is days and days away. It is only a couple of hours. Grant me just this one pleasure without making me feel as if I am abandoning you. You know I would never do that.” 

“You know who we sound like, don’t you?” Raebidus narrowed his eyes slightly, poking his brother in the chest, “We are having the exact same conversation that Aldaraen and his brother had when Aldaraen wished to leave Mirkwood.”

“So?” Garrik rolled his eyes, “Perhaps you should see the good it did for Aldaraen’s health and spirit.”

“Garrik, isn’t this very odd to you?” Raebidus held his arms out, staring at his brother, “The moment these Elves came into our lives, everything as we know it changed. They have dragged us into their destiny. Whatever that may be.”

“One is not dragged into a destiny, Raebidus. If this is so, then we have been part of their destiny all along and we have just discovered it,” Garrik responded, “But I will not pass on the chance on learning the ways of Elves. Unlike you, I have many, many, many more years to live. Possibly thousands. And I would wish to live them fully. Also, I thought you did not believe in destinies, no?”

Raebidus watched his brother walk out of the room, bag in tow, shaking his head. 

The Elf’s words had stung him to the bone, and he had to sit himself on Garrik’s bed, for the anger he was feeling at the moment was causing him to feel light-headed. 

This was not healthy for their relationship and he knew he had to calm himself before words he would regret spilled forth.

It took only a couple minutes before he could think clearly again and he dashed outside as his brother was strapping his bag to Mel’s saddle.

“Garrik, I do not wish for you to be angry with me before you depart,” Raebidus said upon reaching him, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “I will miss you, is all. I know you will not be far, but I feel as if those Elves have stolen you from me. I do not wish for you to forget me, or to feel more love and loyalty to members of your own race, rather than I. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I love you more than they ever will.”

“I understand you, Rae’. I’d feel the same way, most likely,” Garrik smiled at him, turning to face him, “I just hope you can understand why this is so important to me.”

“I do, Garrik,” Raebidus looked down briefly, “I really do. Just promise me that if those Elves are…mean to you…in any way, that you will return here immediately.”

“Of course, but I know they will not be cruel,” Garrik mounted Mel lightly, “It is kind of you to be concerned for me, but do not worry.”

“I will always worry for you, Garrik. You are very open and kind and I do not wish for your heart to be hurt in any way,” Raebidus waved to him, “I’ll drop by tomorrow, perhaps, to help with the building of the Guest Room and bring anything you might have forgotten. Have a safe ride.”

Garrik smiled and waved to his brother before spurring Mel forward, patting her neck.

Raebidus watched Garrik trot the horse away rapidly, not even giving a second glance over his shoulder, and he hoped that his brother had made the right decision.

Their lives both would never be the same.

~~~


	4. Heirs ~ Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow the epic story of Alinor and Aldariil, a prince and princess of the Royal House of Mirkwood, along with their family and companions, as they come to discover their twisted places in the center of a war that has been brewing for ages: where Elf fights Elf, the forces of Light must battle the Darkness, and the powers of Rivendell, Mirkwood, and the Istari face off against the will of Sauron, his Orcs, and the fallen Dark Elves.
> 
> Return to Middle-Earth and enjoy the tale of the rarely seen times before the events of "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings".
> 
> Follow this amazing tale, striving to honor the works of J.R.R. Tolkien as much as possible, and meet many of your favorites, such as Thranduil, Legolas, Elrond and his twin sons Elladan and Elrohir, Glorfindel, the Dragons, Maedhros, Sauron and the One Ring, and many others...
> 
> I hope you will enjoy the tale, as many others have, and be sure to read in order: 
> 
> Strangers ~ Part I   
> Heirs ~ Part II   
> Kin ~ Part III

~ A few years later…

Alinor felt the year of her 100th birthday, her coming of age, as if it were right about the corner, waiting to spring out at her and snag her with all of its responsibilities and troubles.

It had been a few years now since Garrik had joined them under their roof, and, even to her surprise, had brought from her family far more joy and smiles than bitterness and regret. Even Aldaraen had grown very fond of him, the reserve he had shown towards the young Avari having been long past.

He had helped, as promised, to build a Guest Room, a storage shed, and a storage room against the house, the extra labor bringing about another growth spurt for the Elf until he was taller than Aldaraen, even, though his youth was still apparent.

His teaching had gone extremely well for his age, as well, already nearly able to communicate fluently with the Elves in their Silvan language. History and art went past him like the easiest of subjects, making Aldariil jealous. 

Aldaraen’s arm was healed, but he was still extremely grateful for the help brought by Garrik’s growing strength. Aldariil was able to help more and more, successfully pushing Alinor out of all labor from outside, to her chagrin, and inside, to help and learn from her mother. 

She was hanging clothes outside now to dry, holding pins in her mouth. There was no small clothing anymore as her little brother was now nearly her height, and this saddened her slightly.

Garrik had explained the reason for his clothing only being black. This being that they were Raebdon’s, the Man never having bought new clothes from the Brigand’s retreat from Mirkwood, and he had merely passed them to his sons as they grew.

Garrik kept most of the slim fitting black clothes, but Faerlin had quickly produced others of different colors, the Avari accepting them without issue.

Alinor thought that Garrik looked quite striking in the uniform of his People, but she never voiced her thought.

She looked up from her work when Aldaraen strode past her, carrying tools towards the larger garden, and Garrik followed him closely, carrying things of his own. He smiled at her and she returned the expression, watching them depart.

One thing Garrik refused to accept was the oddness of removing his tunic for sweating work outside, not caring one way or the other, even when Aldaraen told him that typically it was Men who removed their garments in such a fashion. Garrik, try as he might, could not get Aldaraen to see the usefulness in the shedding of the unnecessary, hot garment, but the elder Elf wouldn’t listen, shaking his head and smiling each time the subject was brought up.

Garrik had a slender, yet defined physique, but Alinor didn’t get to think over this fact for long when Aldariil pranced past her towards the other Elves, carrying a hoe of his own. 

He was tall and lanky, like his father had been, Faerlin had said, and Alinor had felt sad when he had reached the point that he no longer had to be accompanied by Alinor into the forest, or asked often for her advice. Also, this was his last year to wear his hair shortened, as was custom. He would begin growing it out at the end of this year, and Alinor felt as if she were not yet ready to see his chestnut hair long.

“Alinor!”

Alinor turned, brushing off her dress, at the sound of her mother’s voice at the door.

“Hurry and finish that so you can take the boys some water,” Faerlin motioned towards the garden, “They’ve been working since sunup on the fruit trees and Aldaraen wants them to help finish the garden. They haven’t had a drink yet.”

Alinor consented, hurrying her pace, before fetching the small bucket for water and making her way towards the garden carefully, so as not to spill anything.

They were dirty and sweating and Alinor couldn’t help a smile when her younger brother saw her approaching them and threw Garrik’s loose work shirt solidly into his chest.

Garrik tugged it over his head, making a face at Aldariil, who had come to treat the Avari as an older brother, loving him, but also pestering him when given the chance.

“You’re an angel from the Valar,” Garrik said, out of breath, as he accepted the water from Alinor, and Aldariil pursed his lips, saying,

“Don’t encourage her.”

Aldaraen, while waiting for the two younger Elves, dipped his hands into the bucket and put water behind Aldariil’s red ears, and then Garrik’s.

“Ada, if I finish early with Mama, then I will go upon the mountain. Perhaps stay the night,” Alinor said to her father, half hoping that he wasn’t truly listening.

All 3 Elves paused to look at her curiously, and Aldaraen finished swallowing his water, answering, “Why, Ali’?”

“Just for some quiet time,” Alinor said quietly.

“You usually do not ask permission,” Aldaraen leaned on the fence between them, wiping at his forehead, “I am not foolish, Alinor. What are you doing?”

Alinor desperately thought of something her father would relate to and she replied, “I have a hunger for adventure I need sate. Alone. I just need some space.” It wasn’t a lie.

“But alone--?” Aldaraen began, but Alinor added quickly,

“You do not have to fear. I will venture nowhere I haven’t been before. In fact, I promise to return within the night. Ada, remember, you told me that I may go adventuring alone on the mountain when I turned 75. Anytime I wanted. It was my gift.”

Aldaraen looked at her solemnly after a moment, then answered, “You are right. I’m sorry. Take your bow. You know I merely worry for you.”

“Of course,” Alinor leaned forward and kissed his dirty cheek before turning away, adding, “I’ll be back later tonight. I promise.”

“Be careful, love!” Aldaraen called after her, and looked at Garrik in surprise when he realized that he had said the same sentence simultaneously with the younger Elf.

Garrik smiled at him before tugging his shirt back off, bending once again to his task.

~~~

~ Later that evening…

Alinor had made record time to the Fire-Mountain’s entrance along the river, riding Forwen swiftly and steadily along the path.

“Esta sinome ar' uma il- kela,” she said to the horse after she had slid from its back, landing softly. She slung her satchel across her shoulder with her bow and trotted towards the cave’s mouth, gaze intense.

The few years that had passed should not have changed much of the Hatchling’s size, the beast that Alinor had come to seek out. Only it’s intelligence should have grown, if anything at all. This was all according to Garrik, who remembered nearly all Raebdon had taught him of dragons, word for word.

Curiosity had finally driven Alinor nearly mad, knowing that such a beast was residing in the Fire-Mountain. The more the months raced by for her, the more she began to worry on its health and well-being, hoping that it fared well and had not been slayed.

She knew that this venture might be selfish in the long run, but Alinor also knew that she would never be able to live with herself if she did not follow up on her initial discovery of the beautiful black Hatchling, the creature giving her such trust in their first meeting, resting its head in her hand.

When she got so far inside that she could no longer see well, Alinor knelt and lit a torch before raising it high to search for the smaller tunnel further up the cavern wall.

She scrambled up the rocky face easily now that her shoulder was healed and took no break before immediately entering the low-ceilinged tunnel.

She recognized the place where she had first met the creature and paused, but there was no sound to be heard. 

Alinor had begun this search with the simple knowledge that the beast might not be in the Fire-Mountain any longer, that perhaps a hungry animal had ended its life, but until she had explored this single tunnel thoroughly, she would not give up.

It felt good to be back in a tunic and leggings again, having too often been helping her mother in the house. Her mother had become very serious in Alinor wearing dresses and keeping mostly clean; Lessons, Alinor knew, that were crucial, but that she still loathed.

She continued down the tunnel for a good half hour, her knees beginning to ache as she had to crawl through the low space, until she came upon the large chamber, or ledge, it seemed. 

The space she emerged onto was a large ledge jutting out over the river from a rather high place, surprising Alinor, as she did not realize that she had been crawling uphill. There was no roof, the place being entirely open to the sky high above, the hand sized, jagged circle of the Fire-Mountain’s mouth.

Alinor stepped cautiously to the nearest edge of the ledge and held out her torch. The firelight was dimly reflected on the river’s surface below and she swallowed. It was quite a long way down, several stories, at least. 

A quiet, but abrupt, chirp behind her nearly made her drop the torch down the precipice and Alinor turned quickly, gripping the handle of the curved dagger at her belt readily.

To her great relief, it was the small black Hatchling, standing before her in the faint circle of torchlight, eyes bright and curious, no hint of fear or resignation to be seen in their blue depths.

“Hello, little one,” Alinor whispered breathlessly, “Do you remember me?”

The Hatchling turned a small circle and sat back on its haunches, head tilted questioningly. 

Alinor crouched and reached towards it, but the small black dragon leaned away.

Thinking quickly, Alinor reached into her satchel and held out one of the pieces of dried fish she had brought with her, smelly and gross, to her, but she hoped the Hatchling would take a liking to it.

“Here, do you smell it?” she held it forward and waved it slightly, “It is for you. I know you must be hungry. It’s yummy.”

The Hatchling stared at her for a moment, then leapt forward and snatched it from her fingertips, clambering up her body with sharp claws to perch on her shoulder and gulp the morsel down.

Alinor yelped in surprise at the sudden contact and lost her balance, falling to a sitting position awkwardly.

The Hatchling made its odd purring sound and rubbed it’s face against Alinor’s head before hopping into her lap, burying its head into her satchel, snuffling.

Alinor giggled and picked up its squirming body to set it on the ground before her, the small dragon never flinching, and she murmured, “Curious beast.” She fished out the rest of the dried fish and fed it to the Hatchling, one piece at a time.

“That is all, I am afraid,” Alinor said when the animal looked up at her expectantly after finishing the last piece, “I will return to you when I can, with more.” She began to rise, but the Hatchling leapt into her lap again with wide eyes, planting its feet against her chest. It made a quiet whimpering noise, and Alinor said softly, putting a hand timidly on its cold back, “I doubt you can understand me, but I promise I will return to give you some medicine. You look sickly. Perhaps we may be friends.”

She brushed the Hatchling from her lap and stood fully, lifting her satchel. “I promised my ever worrisome father that I would return to our home tonight and I must leave now, as it is dark outside already. At least I know that you are still here, and that you are still friendly. Good night, small one.”

Alinor turned and squatted, preparing to squeeze herself into the low tunnel for her departure, but she stopped in surprise when a quiet voice squeaked behind her, “Good…night…” mimicking her.

Alinor turned sharply and looked at the Hatchling, who was watching her leave with wide, sad eyes, wrapping its frail black wings about itself as if to stay warm where it crouched in a poorly constructed nest.

Alinor paused, then stood and walked back to it, kneeling. She undid her cloak and shrugged out of it, then wrapped it snuggly about the small creature before her. 

It looked up at her with slightly squinted eyes and she could not help thinking that it was smiling.

“Good night,” Alinor paused again before bending down to kiss the top of its head.

“Good night,” the Hatchling’s response was much more swift this time, and clear. Alinor easily recognized the voice as that of a small female.

“You are a little girl,” Alinor smiled, then stood and finished, “I will return with more things soon. I promise.”

~~~

Forwen retired obediently to the stables when she and Alinor reached their home, and Alinor slipped quietly into the dark house, ears alert for any sounds of her family or Garrik.

It appeared that they had already gone to bed, or, at least, they were in bed, reading, or some such.

It was very quiet.

Alinor padded silently down the dark hall and paused at her parent’s chamber door before opening it.

Faerlin was sleeping, she could see, but Aldaraen rose on his elbow at her entry to see who it was, relaxing when he recognized his daughter.

“Ada, I am home. I was just letting you know,” she smiled, whispering, “Sleep well.”

Aldaraen smiled at her, as well, and Alinor shut the door again quietly, promptly turning and trotting swiftly down to the end of the hall and to the newest chamber, the guest’s room. She slipped inside after she knocked quietly, a dim light coming from under the door, and Garrik answered her.

He didn’t look up at her from where he sat on the floor, biting his lip, and staring down at a sketch he was making.

Alinor plopped next to him and leaned over to see, smiling in protest when he moved it from her vision, turning with raised eyebrows.

“You know I love all of your work!” she laughed, “What is it?”

“It’s not done yet, but it’s my first scenic work. You may see it when it’s finished, Ali’,” Garrik shut the book he had been sketching in and shifted to face her, lifting a small glass to his lips.

“What are you drinking?” Alinor asked, tilting her head.

“Just tea,” Garrik smiled at her as if embarrassed, “I like your mother’s tea, so she makes me some regularly. Usually we have it together when she tutors me, but she gives me some before bed, as well. She says it is good for your mind.”

“You’re almost adorable, did you know that?” Alinor said teasingly, but Garrik only shrugged and said,

“Did you need something? Or were you just bored?”

“I…I needed to ask you something about dragons,” Alinor replied quickly, “I was hoping, perhaps, Raebdon might have mentioned something of it to you.”

“Go ahead,” Garrik leaned back on a dresser drawer.

“How do Hatchlings learn how to speak?” Alinor asked the question bluntly.

Garrik was silent for a moment, his black eyes staring into her own green ones, almost expressionlessly, until he answered, at last, “They learn very quickly. Small phrases soon growing into long sentences. They can learn many languages the older they grow. Why?”

“Oh, I was just thinking on the subject again,” Alinor smiled innocently at him, “Thank you. I’ll leave you to sleep, then.”

She stood but Garrik placed his cup behind himself on the dresser and stood, saying, “Alinor, where did you go today?”

“Just about on the mountain,” Alinor replied, “Why do you ask?”

“Mud,” Garrik motioned to her boots, “Deep mud. You must have gone by the river..?”

“Yes, I watered Forwen,” Alinor said, just as innocently, “Sleep well, my friend. We’ll speak tomorrow.”

Garrik paused, as if about to speak again, then nodded to her, flashing her his small smile.

“Sleep well, Ali’.”

~~~

~ The next day…

Alinor leaned on the windowsill next to her mother and followed her green gaze, searching for what she was gazing at so intently.

Aldaraen was outside with Garrik and Aldariil, giving them their, now, daily combat lessons.

Aldariil was perched atop a fence, watching the proceedings between his father and the elder young Elf with focus, listening to everything his father said.

Garrik held a curved sword before him and exchanged a few blows with Aldaraen, who paused to explain something to him, holding out his hand.

“He is getting much better,” Faerlin said to Alinor, “Aldaraen is teaching him…much.”

“You sound bothered, Mama,” Alinor glanced at her with furrowed eyebrows, “After so many years, I thought that you had grown close to Garrik. You and Ada treat him as a son.”

“I think of him as son, and care for him in that manner, as well,” Faerlin replied quietly, “But, no matter how hard I may try, I always think back on our warring with the Avari and sometimes I wish…sometimes I wish that Aldaraen would not learn him all of our People’s secrets, tactics, and training. Garrik can almost best him in sword combat, you know.”

“Garrik wishes to please you and Ada by excelling in all that he does,” Alinor watched Garrik meet her father’s blade again with skill and parry each blow that was directed at him, “He poses no threat. If you were so frightened of him, then he would not be living under our roof, as family.”

“I am not frightened of him. My memories are always there, however, Melamin,” Faerlin said quietly, “Reminding me of what had been, and what might be.”

Alinor turned, troubled, as Faerlin retreated from the sill, and said to her, “Mama, Garrik will not turn against us. He loves us.”

Faerlin did not answer, and she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.


	5. Heirs ~ Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow the epic story of Alinor and Aldariil, a prince and princess of the Royal House of Mirkwood, along with their family and companions, as they come to discover their twisted places in the center of a war that has been brewing for ages: where Elf fights Elf, the forces of Light must battle the Darkness, and the powers of Rivendell, Mirkwood, and the Istari face off against the will of Sauron, his Orcs, and the fallen Dark Elves.
> 
> Return to Middle-Earth and enjoy the tale of the rarely seen times before the events of "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings".
> 
> Follow this amazing tale, striving to honor the works of J.R.R. Tolkien as much as possible, and meet many of your favorites, such as Thranduil, Legolas, Elrond and his twin sons Elladan and Elrohir, Glorfindel, the Dragons, Maedhros, Sauron and the One Ring, and many others...
> 
> I hope you will enjoy the tale, as many others have, and be sure to read in order: 
> 
> Strangers ~ Part I   
> Heirs ~ Part II   
> Kin ~ Part III

~ Many years later…

Day after day went by, weeks growing into years, and Alinor continually ventured into the Fire-Mountain to care for the slowly growing Hatchling, bringing it medicine and food, and constructing it a warmer place to sleep, using things of her own and old things of her family’s that they no longer had a need for.

It became custom for her to venture out, and Alinor’s parents ceased questioning her motives, thinking her merely adventuring about, as she had when she was younger.

“Good morning, Mellon,” Alinor called as she reached the mouth of the small tunnel, satchels in tow, “I’m sorry I’m late. Fishing took longer than normal. They are migrating, you know.”

“Hello!” a loud, yet sweet voice exclaimed happily, and Alinor laughed when the Hatchling, now the size of a large dog, pounced upon her as she exited the tunnel, wings creating a loud ruckus as she flapped for balance. 

The Hatchling’s weight pressed her down effectively until Alinor shoved against it, throwing her off.

“I missed you,” the Hatchling exclaimed, propping itself against Alinor with its two front feet after the She-Elf had stood again, nuzzling her, “How fares your family?”

“They are well,” Alinor answered, “How was your fish-hunt, Menelaudh?”

She had finally come upon a name for the young Hatchling.

“Oh, it was good,” Menelaudh answered, seeming content after Alinor had kissed her nose. She backed away and sat, “Look at this.”

Alinor smiled in wonder as her small friend and charge literally coughed up small bits of molten fire, even though they died away as soon as they hit the cold, stone floor.

“You still have many years yet, Menelaudh,” Alinor smiled, “But that is impressive!”

“Thank you,” Menelaudh made a deep rumbling sound of happiness, what the small purring noise had grown into.

Garrik and Raebidus had told her that dragons grew rapidly after they had reached their 10th year, and Alinor continued to put away the thought of what would become of the dragon when she reached her full size…or when Alinor had to reside at Rivendell for her furthered education. Would she have to leave her behind?

She didn’t want to go to Rivendell.

And she did not want to see those horrible twins again. The mere thought of them made her feel sour, so she steered her mind back towards dragons.

Garrik and Raebidus had also told her that even if one had raised a Hatchling from birth, dragons never viewed you as a parent. They could love you, perhaps, yes, but you would always be just companion to them, strengthening their magic.

Through the years, Alinor had come to love the beast as a sibling, almost, and, as far as she could assume, the same was true for the dragon. 

Alinor loathed leaving Menelaudh when she visited her, and the dragon was upset when Alinor had to go.

“When will I be able to meet your family?” Menelaudh followed Alinor about as she picked up the ever larger black scales that the dragon had shed as she grew, and threw them into the large pile of discarded scales, “I wish to meet them, for they sound lovely.”

“I do not think that yet is the time, Menelaudh,” Alinor sat at the edge of the ledge and Menelaudh crouched next to her, tucking her legs beneath her and wrapping a black wing loosely about the Elf, “I have told you of my father’s fear and hate of dragons, haven’t I? I’ve told you the stories, so you would not feel as if I withheld anything from you.”

“You have, and I understand how my sire, Khelekmin, placed that fearful disposition upon him, but perhaps I may befriend your father..?” Menelaudh looked at her with wide, blue eyes, “I would not harm him, nor your family!”

“I know you wouldn’t, my friend,” Alinor smiled at her fondly, “But my father is…not yet ready for the news. Neither are the brothers, Garrik and Raebidus. I know you understand why, for we have talked on the subject often.”

“Yes,” Menelaudh looked sad when she lowered her head, gazing down at the river far below them.

“You know that I might have to leave soon, for I have reached 100 years of age,” Alinor rubbed the top of the dragon’s head gently, “You would be free to fly and roam where you will. I do not wish to hold you as a captive of some sort, as Raebdon did.”

“Oh no, our companionship is not like that in the least!” Menelaudh looked up at her, “I know I may leave when I wish, and when I can fly, but I do not wish to depart from you.”

“Do you miss your father? I apologize, for I know not if Hatchlings desire to see their parents,” Alinor said.

“No. He was tricked by evil magic. I fear that once a dragon’s magic has tasted such power and darkness, it will never turn back to the Light, if that makes sense,” Menelaudh smiled at Alinor with her eyes, “But you are pure, I can sense it. I can sense almost all your emotions, whether you wish me to or not. That is why when you are troubled, we talk on it so easily. Our magic is well-joined.”

“I did not know it was joined until you told me,” Alinor said.

“Yes, it is mental, for me. It is too difficult for me to explain right now,” Menelaudh giggled, a hopping sound, “Were it not for you, I’m afraid that I would not have lived long, for I am a mutant of my SnowDrake parents, and the runt.”

“Yes, Raebidus and Garrik also told me this,” Alinor replied, “SnowDrakes and FireDrakes may mate, but they have either complete SnowDrake or complete FireDrake Hatchlings, there can be no mix. Your parents were both SnowDrakes, so you must have received the recessive gene, making you a black FireDrake instead of a white SnowDrake.”

“I wonder if my nest-mates were SnowDrakes and if I am the only mutant one?” 

“You are no mutant to me, just the different of the three,” Alinor said, “But that is no matter. They were taken by evil Men, and I have found you, or, really, you found me. You will live.”

“Whether our enemies want me to or not,” Menelaudh closed her eyes in what Alinor had learned was a smile.

“Indeed,” Alinor patted her back again, “I do not wish to leave for Rivendell. Perhaps we may grow together here, and, one day, challenge those who are destroying both our Races. Show Arda that all dragons are not evil.”

“Yes,” Menelaudh waved her head, “We shall do that!”

Alinor hugged her neck and finished, “I knew I was making a critical decision when I continued to see you, but never did I ever think it would bring such joy and companionship!”

~~~

“Where is our daughter?” Faerlin asked Aldaraen, not worriedly, for she was smiling when she entered the outdoor shed.

“She went out on the mountain again, or to Gwemyr. I know not. She leaves often now,” Aldaraen answered, looking up from where he was sharpening his sword, blowing wisps of golden hair from his face, “Why? Do you need aid?”

“No. I needed to talk to you of something, but I did not wish for her to hear,” Faerlin answered, and Aldaraen lifted his sword from the grind-stone, examining it.

She touched her fingertip gingerly to the blade, experimentally, and drew it back with a quiet intake of air, blood welling on the tip of her finger.

“That is truly sharp,” she said with a laugh, “You have done a good job.”

“Melamin,” Aldaraen looked up at her with wide, exasperated eyes, “Why did you that? Do you need a wrapping?” He kissed it with a laugh after she had smudged the blood away.

“No, I can hold it. Just put your weapon away and listen to me, for I need your attention,” Faerlin held her finger securely in her working tunic and sat before her husband, joining him.

Aldaraen looked at her oddly and laid aside the sword on the bench, leaning forward slightly and putting his chin in his hands, “What is it?”

“Do not be defensive in any way, for I merely ask as it is important to me,” Faerlin began, “Alinor turned 100 this year. She has come of age. Many things are meant to happen to her at this time. Also, she need travel to Rivendell to continue her studies.”

“Why are She-Elves so obsessed with these things,” Aldaraen rolled his eyes briefly, though he smiled, “Alinor need not continue her studies in Rivendell immediately if she does not wish. Don’t push her. I, personally, would enjoy having her with us for a few more years.”

“I, as well, Melamin, and do not think for one second that you love our daughter any more than I,” Faerlin looked at him seriously, “But…She is 100. She should be married, and yet she knows no young Elves. This frightens me, Aldaraen. Strange, and sometimes, bad things, happen to Elves if they have no spouse at this age.”

“Perhaps she was not meant to be married,” Aldaraen shrugged.

“You cannot just blow this issue away because you cannot stand the thought of another Elf taking her away with him,” Faerlin frowned, “She needs to find a partner. I do not wish odd things upon my daughter, Aldaraen. She needs to prepare to go to Rivendell. Soon.”

Aldaraen waved at her slightly, answering, “You will speak to her of this. I do not think it is that important for her to be married and carrying Elflings so soon.”

“You will keep her mind young?” Faerlin said, “Aldaraen, she needs to leave. Gain her independence, travel Middle-Earth, study at Rivendell, and then meet a young Elf and be wed.”

“She will do what she wants.”

“She needs a little kick. From you,” Faerlin kicked his boot for emphasis, “You needed one from your father and your brother. Alinor needs to begin her life. She will leave for Rivendell.”

When Aldaraen remained silent, Faerlin sighed and added fervently, “You promised your brother that you would return to him upon Alinor’s 100th birthday as she traveled through to Rivendell. Would you break that promise?”

“Faerlin, he has forgotten. It has been nearly 70 years now?” Aldaraen answered, “We have built this home with our bare hands, made friends in Gwemyr…Would you really wish to return to Mirkwood?”

“Yes, as you should, too,” Faerlin stood and prodded him in the chest, finishing, “Your brother loves you and is waiting for you to return with a broken heart. You know this. Do not be selfish. You are perfectly healthy, and the darkness that plagued you is gone from those Woods. We will go home and be with our family. We will return to Mirkwood.”

Aldaraen stared at her with raised eyebrows momentarily, then shrugged and answered, “Fine. We will. I promise. We will give this residence to Numonex and his family? I know not. If you are so set on returning, then we shall.”

“When, Aldaraen?”

“When we can, Faerlin,” Aldaraen answered impatiently, “We need just a little more time. Let us discuss this with Alinor.”

Faerlin was silent now, but when she answered, she said, “You are right. We will discuss this with all 3 of our Elflings.”

“Yes. Our two Elflings, and Garrik,” Aldaraen said with an odd tone, and Faerlin glanced at him once more before departing.

~~~

~ The next day…

Aldaraen called Aldariil in from outside and told him to wait in the living-room space for a discussion, then he went to find his daughter and Garrik.

He could hear them talking in Elvish in one of the rooms down the hall, practicing Garrik’s speech, and Aldaraen slowed quietly, pushing the door open.

Alinor stood behind the taller Garrik, who was seated, braiding strands of his black hair. 

Since he had begun his lessons and had agreed to conform to the customs of the Elven people, Faerlin had insisted on the young Avari growing his hair longer. His short ponytail was no longer, but he still wore it slightly more short than most Elves his age.

He was dressed in the fitting black tunic Faerlin had improvised a trim of deep-sea blue and gold upon and Aldaraen sighed, unable to help a small smile. 

The young Elf seemed to love everything given to him and just had a way of making everyone he had a relationship with feel special.

Aldaraen still could not believe the initial hate and reserve he had felt towards the quiet young Elf, and, as much as he hated it even now to admit, he felt an almost fatherly affection for the Avari, having been raising him for many years now. He hated to admit it, and, he told himself many times, would never admit it.

He was just beginning to step into the room when he withdrew again in surprise, staring as Alinor lifted a circlet from the dresser before them.

Garran’s circlet.

Garrik had brought it with him from his previous home, along with his mother’s necklace, wearing it almost all of the time, but he had never openly displayed his father’s circlet, respecting and understanding the reasons why it would not be good to do such a thing.

Aldaraen watched in estranged wonder, not having a clue as to what his daughter was doing, as she slowly lowered the circlet of the Avari’s King upon Garrik’s brow, watching him in the mirror before them with a small smile.

Garrik sat very still, staring at himself with round, almost concerned, black eyes.

The resemblance to his father was astonishing to Aldaraen.

Garrik stood abruptly and turned to face Alinor, mouth opening as if to speak, but Alinor interrupted him, saying,

“And that is how you would look, with your hair braided in Silvan fashion, and—“

“This does not belong on my head, and I do not like seeing it upon my brow,” Garrik said, reaching up and taking it from his head, “But thank you for—“

“What are you doing?” Aldaraen stepped into the room now, head turned questioningly.

Alinor and Garrik both jumped slightly in surprise, and Alinor answered first, saying, “Garrik wished for me to show him how the Silvan Elves in Mirkwood braided their hair. I told him how the Lorien Elves that were trained in Mirkwood kept their hair braided in the manner to mark them. I was just showing him. I didn’t have a circlet that would fit him without asking, so we just used this…old one.”

“She speaks the truth, Aldaraen,” Garrik bowed his head slightly, cheeks coloring, “I’m—I’m sorry. Truly, I was only curious—“

“Do not apologize, lad, there is no harm done,” Aldaraen smiled at him kindly and Garrik seemed relieved, “I came to bring you to a discussion we must have. The entire family.”

Garrik paused, and Aldaraen added gently, “Including you, Master Garrik.”

Garrik smiled and walked past quickly, clutching the circlet in his hand to put away.

“Come, Alinor,” Aldaraen motioned to her, but his daughter lingered, looking unsure.

“Ada,” she said quietly, “Garrik truly had naught to do with the circlet. It was my fault. I was curious as to what he would look like with it on, but also that is the only one that fits him perfectly. I’m sorry, but don’t be mad with Garrik.”

“I am not upset with Garrik, Melamin,” Aldaraen smiled at her, “Thank you for telling me though. Now come, we have something important to discuss. It will center, mostly, about you.”

“Oh, no,” Alinor’s face fell, “It is about Rivendell, isn’t it.”

“Your mother is ever pressing,” Aldaraen hugged her as they walked down the hall together and kissed her cheek, “But listen to all she says. She is wiser than me in many things, I shall admit.”

“I know, Ada. I just…would loathe…to leave this place. For many reasons,” Alinor responded woefully.

Aldaraen ushered her into the meeting room with a sad, understanding laugh, and they waited to begin until Garrik joined them.

“As you all know,” Aldaraen said from where he sat, looking at them all in turn, “We were to return to Mirkwood when Alinor reached her 100th year and came of age…”

Everyone nodded, so Aldaraen continued, flashing a look at Faerlin, “Alinor turned 100 this year, and there have been no plans on when to return to Mirkwood. I do not believe that there is any pressing matter that should force us to leave immediately this year.”

Faerlin groaned quietly and Aldaraen sighed, looking at her, “Melamin, I am rather certain that our Elflings will agree with me when I say we should spend just a few years more here. Garrik has only a little schooling left which may be taught to him in those remaining years. After that, he may return to live with his brother and the issue about what will become of Garrik if we leave shall be solved.”

Alinor and Aldariil looked at Garrik, who met their gaze sadly, and Aldaraen’s Elflings couldn’t help to wonder if Garrik truly wished to return to his old home.

“This is all being decided so swiftly,” Faerlin breathed heavily and folded her arms, “The best, and only, reason that I can think of to remain a few more years is that of Garrik.”

“Please, do not do anything on my—“ Garrik began, but Faerlin interrupted him, saying,

“If those few years are spent completing Garrik’s schooling, then Alinor might linger a few more in Mirkwood, and can continue to Rivendell with her brother, who will be of age to study there. They may go together.”

Alinor and Aldariil glanced at one another. That was something to be relieved about, in itself.

“See,” Aldaraen nodded enthusiastically and held his arm out to her, “Things will work out for the best.”

“Except for the promise you made your brother,” Faerlin frowned at him, “How do I feel guilt on the matter and you do not?”

“I do, but I also know that he will not mind a few extra years. He is busy with kingly matters. I will get a message to him somehow,” Aldaraen replied, smiling at her, “Come, Faerlin. The years shall fly past in a blink. What are 10 years to an Elf?”

“The small time you spent unconscious after your mauling tore Thranduil to shreds,” Faerlin said calmly, “He is ever watchful of time. He has been waiting. I know this.”

“I said I will get a message to him,” Aldaraen sighed, “We have been gone for a very, very long time. He can make it another few years without trouble.”

Faerlin shook her head, but didn’t say anything further.

“Good, it is decided then. Nice and quick, that was,” Aldaraen nodded, happy to move past the issue, and smiled at the 3 younger Elves before him, “We stay a few more years. Keep that in mind.”

Alinor seemed greatly relieved, as did Aldariil, and Garrik offered one of his characteristically small smiles, but Aldaraen saw unmistakable moroseness in the black depths of his expressional eyes.

This was something Aldaraen knew he need think on, something he need discuss with Faerlin.

But it was still years in coming, and Aldaraen wanted to give it more time.

~~~

~ The next day…

“Garrik, Raebidus has come!” Faerlin’s voice called him from somewhere in the front of the house, and the Avari leapt up from his written lessons, grasping his belt and wrapping it about his waist and tunic.

He trotted outside, where Faerlin stood, as well, just as his brother dismounted, and grasped him in a tight hug.

“Where have you been? I have not seen you for many months! That has never happened before!” Garrik exclaimed, grinning.

“I know, I know,” Raebidus looked him up and down, saying, “You are so tall and have grown into yourself. Look at you!”

“He is done growing now, Raebidus,” Faerlin laughed, “It is good to see you. Will you stay the night?”

“No, milady, for the animals need herding later this evening. That is why I am here early. I felt bad for not visiting, but it has been very busy,” Raebidus bowed slightly to her, “How is your family?”

“They are out with their father in Gwemyr, getting a few things we have need of,” Faerlin beckoned to him, “Come inside, please.”

“Faerlin, I think I shall take a walk with my brother and talk to him briefly of some things,” Garrik put a hand on Raebidus’ arm, finishing softly to the She-Elf, “Concernien lle nosse's levien.”

Raebidus glanced at him oddly when Faerlin nodded to him and retreated.

“What is it?” Raebidus asked him, “Is there bad news?”

“No,” Garrik’s voice had a strange lilt to it that Raebidus had never heard before, and he assumed that it had come from his constant speaking of the Elven tongue, practicing. He felt slightly sad as Garrik continued, “Just small things concerning our personal lives that I do not want others speaking of.”

“Like what?” Raebidus asked, walking beside his brother as they made their way into the trees.

“Like…have you…have you contemplated marriage, yet?” Garrik’s unexpected question made Raebidus laugh.

“No! I’m afraid that I just might remain a bachelor, for many justifiable reasons,” Raebidus smiled at him teasingly, “Why? Do you fancy marriage?”

To his surprise, his brother’s voice was shaking ever so slightly when he answered, “I’d—I’d like to, when I come of age. Which is very soon. But…I’d like to marry a She-Elf, Rae’.”

“So?” Raebidus’ smile faded slowly when he understood what his brother meant, and he finished carefully, “Oh…you would leave..?”

“I don’t know yet. But there are no Elves in these parts. If we had the chance to leave to a greater Realm together, would you go with me?” Garrik looked at him hopefully, “Leave this place that is known to the Brigands and find a safer haven with me, Rae’.”

“I guess,” Raebidus said slowly, “I would not mind leaving it all behind. Especially if it would mean safety from the poisoned Brigands who know where our…my father lived. When were you planning this move?”

“Oh, no time soon. I still need think on it,” Garrik smiled at him in utter relief, then paused. 

In one quick motion and with a fluidness he had not possessed before, Raebidus noted, Garrik hugged him close again, saying, “Thank you, Rae’. If you accompany me, I promise, you will not be sorry. We will find a home together and you will help me raise my family.”

“You plan on being wed soon?” Raebidus looked at him with raised eyebrows, though he was smiling.

“Perhaps. Soon, for an Elf,” he returned the smile, “But that is what I wanted to know. If the chance came upon us, would you depart? It eases my heart to know you would come with me.”

“I would not like to see us separated, and a change of scenery would do me well,” Raebidus patted him on the back, “Now come. Let us go inside. Faerlin always has something good to eat.”

Garrik bobbed his head in agreement and began to walk, leading the way towards the Elves’ home.

~~~


	6. Heirs~Chapter 5

“Thranduil, where are you going?” Wharyn watched her husband pause in his swift trot down a staircase towards the Stable courtyard, dressed in forest green and brown, bow over his shoulder. He usually wore the silver of the King now and carried primarily his curved sword, as was expected, and she knew he must be going out, dressed as he was now.

He turned to look at her and called, “Out for a run with the Guard. I have not been into the Forest for nearly a month now. I will go mad if I do not get some fresh air.”

“Thran’, be careful!” Wharyn called after him as he started down the stairs again, “Odd things always happen when you join the Guard.”

She saw her husband stop again as if exasperated when he reached the courtyard and he turned, extending a hand towards her, “I’ll be fine, Melamin. Would you care to accompany me, so you might watch my health?”

“Do not make me cross at you, Thranduil,” Wharyn said, but she smiled down at him, “Things have gone smoothly with your new kingship for many, many years. One of these days, the peace of our Realm will be tested.”

“Amin mela lle, WindBorn,” he called his wife’s surname, waving his hand at her teasingly as he began trotting away once more, “I love you!”

Wharyn watched him closely until he was gone from her sight.

She truly did have an uneasy feeling, and she had grown to trust her instincts.

She hoped her husband might heed her words, no matter how calm-minded and wise he seemed at times.

~~~

“Not even a Weaver to be seen. That is rare, indeed,” Yaeran hopped a little less lightly across a pile of stones than Thranduil and paused, resting his hands in the small of his back as he stretched, “Can times be truly this dull?”

“I’d have it no other way,” Thranduil paused with the rest of the Guard, young and old, and they all sat together, to Yaeran’s relief, “Sit, Yaeran. We’ve been patrolling for a few hours now.”

Yaeran was quite conscious of his senior standing with the younger Elves about him, and, for the first time in his long life, felt the need to prove himself still as capable as the others.

“We may continue on, if you so wish,” he said lightly, but when Thranduil motioned for him to sit, he took a seat on the soft forest floor happily.

Legolas had joined them, as well, and he emerged from the undergrowth now, recapping his water bottle. He sat smoothly next to his father and offered it to him, but Thranduil shook his head.

“I heard She-Elves up the river as I refilled my bottle. I did not know that they swam so far from the Palace. They sounded angry, however,” he commented absently, and the majority of the elder Elves stopped what they were doing to stare at him, gaze’s intent.

“She-Elves, Legolas?” Yaeran saw his sinking feeling reflected in Thranduil’s expression across from him, “She-Elves, in these times, are prohibited from venturing so far into the Forest alone. None would be swimming, either. Especially this close to the site of our enemy’s past encampment.”

“They were in the river. Or by it, at least. I did not see them, as they were about a bend,” Legolas looked about himself in worry, “Is something the matter?”

“Everyone up. Let us discern what the She-Elves are doing so far away from safety. We are cautious, and I believe we all know why. Come,” Thranduil stood and walked silently into the undergrowth, the Guard rising and following him.

Legolas took front when his father paused, leading them back towards the bank. They followed the river towards the bend that the voices were coming around from. Even the Guard heard them now, and they trotted up the short incline to see who was having the curt exchange by the shore.

The sight below hit Yaeran like a stone, as was also obvious in a few of the Guard, whose mouths hung open slightly.

Two She-Elves stood beside the bank, arguing, seemingly, on a direction to choose, while an Elf stood beside them, holding a bundle of blankets, expression worried. 

All three Elves below them had the palest of skin, white as the moon, shining black hair and eyes, and wore the fitting black uniform of the Enemy of Mirkwood.

It took Yaeran a moment to gather his thoughts, but, to his surprise, Thranduil was swifter in the matter, shouting, “Tira, desiel lle kawa. Uma il- bela!”

As one, the Guard drew their bows and pulled an arrow to their ear, unwavering aim set to the three below.

The Avari looked up at them in unconcealed horror, one of the She-Elves even crying out in terror.

Thranduil took a step forward and the rest of the Guard followed him down the short rise to form a semi-circle before the Avari, weapons still drawn.

Yaeran lingered in the back, unsure of what to do, himself. He was having déjà vu of his past experience of Aldaraen confronting Garrik, who had turned out to be quite harmless and sweet of nature.

The Elves before him, however, including Thranduil, still retained a strong hate for the Avari, for many justifiable reasons.

Yaeran’s own perspective had been shaken slightly upon meeting Garrik and his brother. He had not spoken on the matter to Thranduil yet. That was Aldaraen’s place.

The Avari Elf was staring at Thranduil expressionlessly, although his chest was rising and falling very fast, still clutching the bundle of blankets, and he visibly swallowed, very hard.

“Mani uma lle kola?” Thranduil hissed to him, motioning with his own arrow at the bundle, “What do you carry? Do not attempt treachery or any kind, for I will slay you all before you harm another of my People.”

The Elf shook his head slightly, and, Yaeran could plainly see, seemed unable to speak from fear, his arms beginning to shake.

“Thranduil. Peace,” Yaeran had barely gotten the quiet statement past his lips before the Avari Elf shouted, 

“Cardhin, Nadhir!” 

He was clearly calling someone, and more than a couple of the Guard pulled their arrows tighter.

“Cardhin!” the Avari Elf sounded irritated now, more so than threatening, and he turned, staring into the undergrowth of the bank.

The She-Elves were crouched behind a pile of their belongings. One had a steely gaze, while the obviously younger had tears standing in her dark eyes.

There was a loud rustling sound and Yaeran reached for his own bow, only to breathe in relief when an Elfling, no taller than his knee, walked somewhat clumsily from the bushes across from them, eyes wide.

“Nadhir,” the steely eyed She-Elf beckoned to the Elfling and held her arms out, pleading with her gaze for him to obey without question.

Thranduil lowered his bow slightly as the Elfling crossed the distance before their weapons, his stance beginning to seem uncertain, eyebrows furrowed. He was followed suit by half the Guard.

No sooner had their movement ceased did another Avari Elf, although very young, probably having not even seen 50 years yet, stepped from the undergrowth with a drawn bow.

It took a moment for the Silvan Elves to realize what the young Avari held, but when the elder Avari Elf shouted furiously, “Cardhin—!” The Elfling released and struck one of the Mirkwood Guard cleanly through the heart. 

Immediately, one of the Guard fired at the elder Avari and struck him mortally, felling him to his knees. 

The younger She-Elf screamed at the Elf, a frightening sound, but the other had drawn a bow from the packs and had fired at one of the Guard, only wounding him in the shoulder. Her life was ended mere seconds after her having lifted the weapon.

Yaeran acted swiftly and fired an arrow of his own, expertly disarming the Avari youth and not wounding him, save for splinters in his hand. He trotted forward, shocked at how swiftly the situation had become bloody.

Hate was a deadly thing.

Thranduil had led the Guard forward already and had engaged the youth that had fired, himself, easily knocking him to his back and kneeling on his chest, drawing a dagger and pressing it to his throat to restrain him. 

The Avari youth merely glared hatefully up at him.

Yaeran knelt beside the fallen Avari Elf, face slack and a trickle of blood running from his mouth. He felt for a pulse, but there was none.

“The She-Elf is dead, my lord!” one of the Guard called to Thranduil, and Yaeran glanced towards the body.

Two of the Guard were attempting to restrain the younger She-Elf, who was sobbing hysterically and grasping towards the body of the slain She-Elf.

Legolas and the youngest member of the present Guard knelt with Yaeran, and the Prince reached forward, tentatively pawing at what the Avari Elf still held closely against his chest.

The young She-Elf broke free from the two Guard, who had been desperately trying to hold her firmly, and threw herself at the fallen Avari Elf’s side, sobbing, “Ada! Ada, lle il- ba. Uma il- kela lye, saesa!”

Yaeran watched her with an aching heart, unbelievable guilt washing over him, confirming his worst fears that it was a family, but it was only when Legolas drew his hand back with a start from the bundle and the newborn Elfling’s cries rose to a piercing volume, did Yaeran feel sick, his stomach beginning to churn.

Wrapped in blankets, the Elfling’s round face was splattered with his father’s own blood, and he was sobbing uncontrollably.

“Ada!” the She-Elf continued to sob her apparent father’s name, holding his face and then his hand, but the Guard came upon her then, grasping her arms once more and yanking her back.

“There is no need to be rough!” Yaeran turned on the Guard vehemently, who looked at him in surprise, the adrenalin coursing through their systems apparent from the shine in their eyes. He opened his mouth to say more, but averted his gaze to Thranduil, who was stumbling towards them with the thrashing young Avari, face contorted in a mixture of a snarl and a grimace.

“Is this what you wanted?” he thrust the Elfling forward slightly, forcing him over his deceased parent’s body, pushing his head down, “Look, Elfling! Did you not learn from your People what happens when you needlessly murder the People of this Forest? My father was also slaughtered, as were many other Elves with loving families. How does it feel, knowing you brought this upon him! What is wrong with the Avari? What continues to bring them to these Woods, knowing they will be killed?”

Yaeran actually felt horror while watching Thranduil handle the Elfling so, keeping the dagger to his already bleeding neck, and he shouted, “Thranduil, stop this immediately! He is an Elfling!”

“He murdered that Elf, Yaeran,” Thranduil stared at him in what seemed disgusted surprise.

Yaeran shook his head slightly, knowing it was useless to speak sense to him when he was this way, like his father, and he stepped forward, yanking the Elfling violently from his grasp.

“I said, leave him be,” he stared back into Thranduil’s unwavering gaze, almost challenging him to use his kingly authority over his senior relationship with the young monarch.

Thranduil continued to stare at him, then he blinked several times and seemed to notice the newborn, still lying on the ground.

Yaeran looked back down, as well, just in time, too, to see the young Guard next to Legolas vomit.

“My lord, should we execute them?” one of the Guard asked Thranduil loudly, over the cries of the She-Elf and newborn, his blue eyes were troubled.

Thranduil was silent for a very long moment, then he bowed his head briefly and said, “Bring them into custody. We shall question them.”

The Guard pressed his hand to his chest in an acknowledging salute, and Yaeran handed over the young Avari Elf to two Guard, who held his arms firmly.

Another Guard lifted the second youngest Avari Elfling and held him on his hip, looking sick himself, and he reached a trembling hand to the Elfling’s face to wipe away his unending tears and turn him away from the body of their parent.

Legolas retrieved the newborn and held him momentarily in his arms, gazing down at its black features, before handing it to Yaeran.

Yaeran cleaned the drying blood away and murmured a few quiet words to it, desperately trying to calm it. The violence of its crying frightened him.

“Should we have executed them?” Legolas asked him quietly, and Yaeran looked up at him slowly, saying,

“For once, young Legolas, I know not what to do. I truly know not what to do.”

~~~

“Thranduil DragonScar Nessaran Opherion,” Yaeran hissed out every one of the young Elf’s surnames that he could think of as he grasped the king’s arm and shoved him into a copse of small trees, the Guard ahead of them unaware of their absence, “What has come over you?”

Thranduil turned on him with wide eyes that openly showed remorse and concern, to Yaeran’s relief.

“I have not seen you act that way since your father was murdered,” Yaeran continued, keeping Thranduil’s back to a tree and standing very close in front of him, “Tell me what has come over you, and do not lie, for when your father left us, my brother and I stepped in to finish your raising, even after so many years of schooling and training. I know you inside and out, lad, so do not even think of trying to slip anything past me.”

Thranduil averted his gaze, but didn’t speak, so Yaeran continued hotly, 

“Listen to me, young Elf, for I have never spoken ill words to you, have I?” he shook him with his free arm, the other holding the newborn Avari, “You are a King. Your actions during the confrontation today were frightening. Gladly, for you, the Silvan Elves hate the Avari with a vengeance, especially for the murder of your father, and probably think naught of your violent anger. You need to begin looking at more than just your personal issues, Thranduil, as a King. That is truly a fault of yours. Do not involve your personal issues with that of your ruling.”

“Yaeran,” Thranduil began, his voice tight, “Yaeran, I am sorry. My anger flew out of my control, but there was something about that young Elf that mirrored the Necromancer that took my father from my brother and I. I… I wish to kill him, Yaeran. I do not want him to come to the Palace.”

“You wish to kill an Elfling? He used no magic!” Yaeran stared at him, shocked, “He was merely trying to protect his family, can you not see that?”

“There is a sick feeling about him. A vile, warning feeling. Wharyn even—“

“Thranduil, he is an Elfling. You allow your hatred for the Avari to cover even the innocent Elflings,” Yaeran glanced in the direction of the Guard, who had stopped walking. He motioned to them to continue, and they obliged.

“Elfling or not, there is something I do not like. I wish you could understand,” Thranduil seemed ready to leave, but he added coldly, “Perhaps your comprehension is clouded in your love for all things. You seek to find the good in all, even if there is none to be found. I, Yaeran, have learned that to show love to some strange thing is to invite heartache to your doorstep. Love, in itself, is agony.”

“Why wed, then?” 

Thranduil didn’t answer him, merely narrowing his eyes, and finishing, “That Elfling brings ruin with him.”

“If you execute them, you will be a monster,” Yaeran said calmly, “You know this to be true.”

“To some. But to most, they will see the wisdom in the decision, for to allow Avari Elflings into our Palace is to invite the affection of others upon them. We will be back where we started, concerning the Avari. Have our People died for naught?”

Yaeran narrowed his eyes now, and abruptly drew his dagger and forced it into his former student’s hand. He held out the Elfling and hissed, “Kill him, then, Thranduil. Curb your hate. Evil aura about this particular Elfling or not, he is still an Avari. He will grow to be an Avari. His blood is of the Avari. Kill him, and end his line.”

Thranduil was staring at him as if he had gone mad, but he didn’t move.

“I said kill him, Thranduil. If you are so concerned with the repercussions of allowing these Elflings into the Palace and showing mercy until further decisions are made, then end the issue now. Kill him,” Yaeran thrust the Elfling towards Thranduil’s dagger wielding hand, but the Elf stepped away from him.

“You know I cannot do that, Yaeran,” Thranduil reached forward just as swiftly as his mentor had and re-sheathed the dagger into the other’s belt, “The only option, then, is to allow them into the Palace. You and I both knew that from the beginning. What is to be decided is what will become of them in the days, weeks, months, and years ahead.”

“Question the She-Elf, and continue from there,” Yaeran’s gaze softened when Thranduil rubbed his face and removed his circlet, taking a deep breath, “Thranduil, you must harness your anger. It is not healthy.”

Thranduil didn’t respond, and he turned away slowly.

“Love, young Elf, is not agony. However you wish to look at it. Love is a blessing,” Yaeran said after him, and Thranduil paused, “Love is returned with love. You have changed, Thranduil, ever since you shared in your brother’s pain. Whatever happened to the two happy Elves I once knew, I will never know. They are gone. You have both changed so much.”

“I changed because, in those few moments, it seemed, I learned what the world was really like, Yaeran. Cold and uncaring. It was as if I had lived thousands upon thousands of years. I had been living a lie. There is no love in this world, but between few individuals, like you or I. If my brother had died that day, it would have been but a passing of time to the universe. None would have cared. None would have suffered. The Valar would’ve welcomed him with open arms.”

Yaeran looked at him sadly and he put a gentle hand on his shoulder, responding quietly, “But you would have suffered, Thranduil, as you do now, in his mere absence. The love of one person is enough to change the universe. That has been proved countless times in our history. Would you renounce your love for your brother, or your wife, or for your son?”

“I’m in a bad mood, I’m afraid,” Thranduil said, to Yaeran’s surprise, not having expected a response as such, “The time I was supposed to spend getting fresh air and exercise has turned into this. There is no happiness to be found in monarchy. I do not think this way all of the time, I shall admit. But it is logical to me, so it stays in my mind. It just goes round and round, Yaeran.”

“You have much to decide, Thranduil, but you know that I am here to guide you every step of the way, if you so wish,” Yaeran said softly, and Thranduil looked at him, seeming very tired all of a sudden, “Question the She-Elf tomorrow and we shall see what happens. But first, you must get yourself out of your glum mood.”

Thranduil nodded and trotted away to catch up with the Guard, seemingly embarrassed at the conversation.

Yaeran watched him fall in beside his son, who looked at him worriedly and touched a hand to his arm, saying something. Thranduil put an arm about his shoulders and hugged him for a few seconds before releasing him, and Yaeran smiled sourly.

Thranduil had very tough decisions approaching him, he knew, and his strength was about to be tested.

And a very hard test it would be, indeed.

~~~

~ The next day…

“Tell me your name.”

The Avari She-Elf’s heart was beating so hard that she knew it would explode, and she had to take a deep, trembling breath before whispering, “Endel.” 

She held her hands between her knees to hide the shaking of them, but refused to look at the King of Mirkwood’s face. Her head came to his chest when standing. His height alone was frightening.

There was a pause, and the elder Elf that accompanied Thranduil to this questioning whispered something very quietly to him.

With an almost immature, put-out sigh, the King said to her, “Stand up.”

Not wishing to risk his wrath, having heard enough horror-tales about the monarchy of Mirkwood, she stood slowly, and, to her surprise, the King sat.

Endel couldn’t help looking at him now, but meeting his piercing blue gaze made her heart begin pounding even harder. 

He looked so foreign and scary, as did his two tall and frightening companions. 

The taller had beautiful auburn hair, a phenomenon to Endel, and the other a darker chestnut. They both possessed sapphire blue eyes, but the red-haired Elf’s seemed to shine, as if a lantern had been placed behind them. 

If she were not in her current situation, she would have paused to admit that, indeed, the Sindarin and Silvan Elves were far fairer than the Avari. It made her feel lowly and embarrassed of herself, so she quickly lowered her flitting gaze to the ground, observing their boots instead.

“Endel…what?” the King sighed again as if irritated with her, and she swallowed hard, answering in just as quiet a voice as before,

“Endel…BrightRaven…” 

“What?”

“Endel BrightRaven,” she repeated, stronger.

“Alright. Endel BrightRaven, Daughter of the Avari, Trespasser of my Realm, and, also, Kin of Murderers,” the King drew her frightened gaze successfully, although nothing had changed except his withheld voice, which seemed to be on the verge of a shout, “I am Thranduil Opherion, King and Protector of Greenwood the Great, or Mirkwood, as it has been so fondly renamed after your People and their allies poisoned our Forests.”

Endel was silent, hoping that was the better choice.

“Listen, Endel, for I will be asking you a few questions,” Thranduil narrowed his eyes at her and she looked away, swallowing, “We have both made a mutual agreement to be courteous to one another. So you will answer my questions and I will show kindness towards you, for believe me, I do wish to be here anymore than you do.”

The elder Elf behind the King cleared his throat, and, to Endel’s shock, Thranduil rolled his eyes in irritation.

“I have nothing…to hide, Thranduil, Lord of Mirkwood,” Endel said, desperately trying to steady her voice. His name sounded odd coming from her tongue.

“Good, then. Here is my first question,” Thranduil finally looked at her again, lips pursed almost like an impatient young Elf, and he practically recited, “Do you have any rather innocent questions you would like to ask me, so that we may be on friendlier terms with one another?”

The elder Elf actually patted the king on the back, treating him like an Elfling, and a small smile crept across the auburn-haired Elf’s face, as if there were some secret jest that only they were privy to.

“Why did you sit?” Endel asked, at last.

“So that you might not feel so intimidated by me,” the King’s shoulders slumped slightly and he finished, “Because I know that I am tall and scary to even young Elves of my own People.”

There was a strange snorting sound, and Endel realized in shock that it had been the auburn-haired Elf’s restrained, sarcastic laugh.

Thranduil blinked very slowly at the sound, but remained expressionless.

Endel felt some of her fear receding, and she gathered her courage again before asking, “How many years have you seen?”

“Why?” the red-haired Elf’s misplaced question frightened Endel, being the first thing she had heard him say, and he had said it rather loudly.

The elder Elf looked at him in shock, and the other looked apologetic.

“How old am I?” Thranduil stared at her, “Why?”

“For you seem not as old as my father, and, also, you do not seem so frightening as I have been told. The two behind you, they treat you as an Elfling.”

Thranduil paused, then surprised her by giving a small smile.

“The two behind me are Yaeran and Eardaneth,” he said, at last, jerking both thumbs over his shoulders as he said their names, “They treat me this way because they raised me along my father. Eardaneth was his closest companion.”

At the mention of Oropher, Eardaneth’s own small smile disappeared and he looked down.

“Now it is my turn to ask questions, Endel BrightRaven,” Thranduil ended the slightly humorous situation quickly, staring at her, “Who were you accompanied by yesterday?”

Endel had to pause, feeling her breath beginning to tremble again and tears coming to her eyes.

When she spoke at last, she said quietly, “I was accompanied by my aunt, who was slain. I was accompanied by my…by my father…who was slain. I was accompanied by my mother, who had fallen into the raging river here and drowned. We were searching for her body. Now it is I, the eldest of my family, my younger brother, Cardhin, who is foolish sometimes, who fired upon you. My second younger brother, Nadhir, and the newest Elfling is barely a few months old, named Ruvven. Where are my siblings?”

“You—“ Thranduil began shortly, but Yaeran interrupted, saying in a soft, most calming voice,

“They are held in different cells, but are well cared for, young one.”

Endel held his gentle gaze for a few moments, then looked down at Thranduil and said, “I am sorry for the loss of your…your People. Cardhin is rash and merely wanted to protect us.”

Thranduil was silent, though his eyes were cold.

“What are you doing here? Your leader and his People left this Forest years ago. What is a single family of Avari doing wandering the Wood?” the King’s voice was withdrawn again, and he stared at her unblinkingly.

“We were lost, trying to go West without being seen. My mother and father fought bitterly on the subject of passing through your Realm, instead of braving the Wilds about it, especially with a newborn,” Endel answered him, finding herself staring at Yaeran alone, as if for comfort, “When Mama drowned, Ada and his sister began to fight. She blamed him for Mama’s death, and now Ruvven would be without nourishment.”

“Ruvven is being cared for, do not fear. I am sorry for your parent’s deaths. The Silvan do not tear families apart in that manner for sport, as I’m sure you might have heard. We are fearful for our own losses, knowing that there is a great evil that comes with your presence…usually. Had Cardhin not fired his shaft, I am sure you would all be living,” Yaeran said, and Thranduil’s averted gaze became even stonier, “Answer us this, young one. Why were you heading West with none of your People?”

“We were banished, my lord,” Endel said quietly, and thoughts of the threats voiced to her and her family made her voice hitch.

Thranduil looked up at her sharply at the pause, and, for a horrifying moment, Endel wondered if he could read her mind, or know their true purpose…

“We were banned because… because we resisted the black magics of the Necromancer and his followers. We knew our wrong. And we were banned, threatened with execution if we did not depart West. Threatened with execution, as Vilna had, Lord Garran’s wife, who also resisted the darkness,” her mind was racing as she remembered the words, the ‘clincher’, so to speak, and she stoned herself, gazing into the King’s icy gaze now, “Vilna, who spared and took mercy upon your young brother, Aldaraen, who came to us for interrogation, who protected him from the mauling of my tricked People. Aldaraen was placed where you could find him, so that he would not be murdered by—“

“You lie!” Thranduil stood suddenly, fists clenched, and Endel cowered slightly, “You are far too young to know anything of my little brother. You are hardly past 50 years of age. Even your parents were probably very young when the incident happened. This Vilna did nothing to save my brother. He was mauled, ruined. He was unrecognizable, and you call that mercy?” he stopped abruptly, eyes wide, then glared at her again and finished, a bit calmer, “How come you by this knowledge of my brother when he was not even of age?”

“Thranduil…” Yaeran’s voice was warning and he was watching the younger Elf with a focused attention.

“I have not heard from my brother in years,” Thranduil leaned closer to her, grasping her trembling arm with a strong hand, “What does your master want, She-Elf? This is planned, and you are a poor liar. Is he getting exactly what he wishes with you being given shelter here? What does this have to do with my brother? Why is he even mentioned, so many years hence?”

Yaeran stepped forward and pulled Thranduil aside.

Endel’s arms ached slightly where he had been gripping her.

“Thranduil, go with Eardaneth,” he commanded calmly, and Thranduil narrowed his eyes at him, opening his mouth, but Eardaneth grasped his arm and walked with him from the cell.

“Young She-Elf, whatever your motive, whoever you might be, whatever you might stand for,” he stared hard into her black eyes, head slightly bowed as he pointed at her, “You’d best think over your standing carefully before more words come forth from your mouth, while there is yet mercy for you here. You stand on a thin, very thin line of compassion with the King of Mirkwood, who is smart and sharp, far beyond his years. Your People took the life of his father, ruined his brother, and tore apart his family. Think…very…carefully.”

~~~

Endel sat in the cold corner of her cell, knees drawn to her chest, head lowered. She was embarrassed at her pitiful crying and sniffing, her body trembling from the chill.

She had never been this frightened in her entire life.

She put a wall against the thoughts of her slain parents and aunt and merely listened to the audible screams and sobs of Ruvven. 

She hoped that he was not left alone and untended. Either Nadhir or Ruvven.

The thought made her feel ill.

Her sharp ears picked up the sounds of soft padding boots, coming quickly down stairs and towards her cell. 

There were three, she discerned expertly, two of them heavier and longer stridden than the other. Two Elves and a She-Elf, possibly.

She barely raised her head from the fear of them when their shadows fell across the dim torchlight entering the cell, and she jumped in surprise when the door opened loudly.

Three Silvan Elves entered, tall and young. They could be only slightly older than herself.

“Come here,” one of the Elves said, but his voice was soft and gentle and reminded her of the calming Yaeran, so she found herself looking up at their faces.

Two of them were nearly indiscernible, auburn hair and beautiful blue eyes, mirror images of Eardaneth. With a small twist of longing, she realized that they must be his twin sons… they were a family. A family in safe quarters, with safe food and drink. A whole family, with none missing.

The one who had addressed her seemed to be the milder of the two, with a soft expression, while the other was different in his more sharpened features and shining eyes.

“We are not here to harm you. Come,” the She-Elf standing between them was beautiful, Endel thought, her long, braided chestnut hair reaching past her hips, the light catching it marvelously. 

They all three were dressed in the uniform of the Warriors of Mirkwood.

The She-Elf pressed a hand against her chest and spoke a final time, saying, “I am Minerva WolfFriend, and these are the brothers Earathran JayGaze and Darnuigar SkyGaze. Please, come here, for we mean you no harm.”

They spoke no further, and Endel knew that it must be their protocol, so she rose tentatively and paused only once, observing them. She was embarrassed when she realized that she must look like an animal and immediately stepped towards them, arms crossed across her chest for the cold.

Minerva, as Endel now knew her name, nodded curtly once, as if pleased that she had come to them, and strode past her towards the far corner she had been occupying. 

Endel watched her suspiciously, but, to her surprise, the She-Elf dropped and rolled out a sleeping mat, then laid out several blankets and a fresh gown, light green. Endel had never worn a gown before, having been raised in the black tunic, cloak, breeches, etc. uniform of her People. She looked at it in surprise, then at the Elf called Darnuigar, when he held her hands and exposed the insides of her arms, bruised where the Guard had handled her roughly.

They were silent for the entirety of their actions, communicating and working together wordlessly, and Endel was nearly unsettled.

Darnuigar laid his hands gently over the dark markings on her pale skin and murmured a few gentle words. 

Endel watched in fascination as the marks began dissolving and he reached into a pouch at his belt and rubbed herbs between his fingers into a poultice before wiping it across that area of her skin.

Many things seemed to be happening simultaneously and Endel began to feel overwhelmed as the other brother, Earathran, wiped the grime from her face with a cloth. Minerva put soap and a brush on the floor, as well, and, when he was finished, Earathran dropped the cloth back into the bowl of water he carried and placed it against the wall.

They turned to leave and Endel stammered, “Th—Thank you..?”

“Clean yourself and be dressed by the sunrise. You are summoned to a hearing,” Darnuigar said to her, shutting the cell door securely after they had retreated.

“But what of Ruvven, the Elfling? Please, he—“

“You are the first we have cared for. Peace, Avari,” Minerva said to her, then beckoned with a signal and the brothers followed her.

They had treated her kindly, yes, but there was also the cold and frightening feeling of biased reserve that Endel had experienced, thus far, from the other Elves. She was concerned for her siblings, especially when, a few minutes later, Ruvven’s crying began to increase in intensity.

To take her mind from it, Endel crouched by the things delivered and examined the bread and fruit given to her, wondering if she should truly eat.

She looked up slowly when she realized Ruvven’s cries were not getting louder, they were merely getting closer, and she could also hear the soft ‘shushing’ of a She-Elf, her voice gentle and warm.

Endel leapt to her feet and held the bars of the cell door tightly, straining to see down the hall.

Minerva appeared then and met her gaze briefly before smiling down at Ruvven, holding him safely in her arms. She stopped at the cell door and cooed gently, “Look, Melamin, it is your sister. She is well, and she will help care for you. Do not cry anymore. You are safe.” 

Minerva looked at her with an expression that demanded silence on the matter and Endel felt tears of gratitude welling in her eyes as Darnuigar joined her and opened the door. 

It was a sight that Endel never fancied herself seeing- A Mirkwood She-Elf cradling her baby brother lovingly while a tall Mirkwood Warrior stood by, a bottle, of all things, in his hand.

“Nurse him and calm him,” Minerva took the bottle from Darnuigar, who smiled at her as they exchanged something unspoken, and Minerva’s pretty face was blushed, her smile warm, when she turned back to Endel, “We will bring him to you in this manner until we have a solidified clearance to allow him with you. I think it is ridiculous to keep a baby from his sister this way, especially in his time of need.”

“They have lied about you,” Endel said quietly, accepting Ruvven into her arms, and her tears wet the clean blanket he was wrapped in, “They have truly fed us only lies.”

“What do you speak of, Avari?” Darnuigar looked at her, stepping close to Minerva and putting an arm around her waist.

“We were raised with tales of your brutality. Of how the favored Elves of the Valar left us to die, rejected us, turned us back to starve and freeze in the Wilderlands, slaughtered us with no reason, how we must protect ourselves from you. All of you,” Endel knew she was speaking very dangerous words, “But how can monsters show compassion and kindness as some of the Favored I have met thus far. My mind is torn, for I feel as if the ground is being swept out from under my feet.”

Minerva looked at her oddly, then said, backing towards the door and pulling Darnuigar with her, “Care for your brother. I will return for him later in the night, for I have watch over your cell first. Bathe and be prepared for tomorrow, as well.”

Endel waited until the two young Elves were gone before covering Ruvven’s face with kisses and squeezing him in relief.

It was true that she was torn. 

If the tales had been true of the Favored Elves being cold and evil-hearted, then she would have not had an issue of ending their life. 

But, after these few meetings, her view was already beginning to change, and she knew, even from these first acquaintances, that there were Elves here that she would never wish to raise her blade against.

~~~


	7. Heirs~Chapter 6

~ 1.5 years later…

“Garrik, here,” Faerlin’s voice seemed distant as she held out parchment for him to take, “Garrik.”

Garrik was gazing out the open side of the small shop in Gwemyr, arms nearly full already, watching Alinor talking with Numonex, his mother, and child. Three generations of best friends, for the She-Elf.

Her silvery hair was long and it blew, waving, in the wind, poetically beautiful, he thought. Something he could write about, paint about. Inside and out, she was so beautiful…

“Garrik!” 

He crashed out of his thoughts with a small gasp and looked at Faerlin in surprise.   
When he assessed what she was asking for, he took the parchment quickly and shifted the other things he already held.

“Are you well, lad?” Faerlin laughed fondly at him and pushed loose strands of black hair behind his ear, “Did I frighten you?”

“I didn’t hear you calling me, I’m sorry. I was too deeply in thought,” he answered, feeling his ears growing warm.

“It is well. Are you hungry? You did not eat in the morning,” Faerlin smiled at him, “You must eat, for you are still growing.”

“I actually think that I am done,” Garrik laughed, “But I eat whatever you give me. It is always good.”

He had particularly bonded in a parent-son relationship with Faerlin, growing to love her as he had his human mother, and she seemed to return the emotion strongly. 

He respected Aldaraen as a father, although never having voiced it, being embarrassed, having grown in his critical years as a young Elf alongside the Prince, working with him and following his instruction. 

Oddly, Alinor did not seem fully a sister, more or less an extremely close friend, as was not the case with Aldariil. He was a little brother to him.

He had grown very attached to the Elven family.

He glanced outside again as Faerlin embraced her friend, the shop-keeper, and exchanged a few parting words. 

Alinor was where he had last seen her, laughing with her friends.

He felt a small smile on his face as he watched her, unconsciously mimicking her happy expression.

“Here, boy, for you,” the elderly shop-keeper balanced an apple on top of the things he was holding for Faerlin, “You will need it after this little She-Elf is done dragging you over Gwemyr.”

Faerlin made a quiet protesting sound and slapped her friend gently on the shoulder, saying, “He helps from his heart. I make him do nothing.”

“Then you are a true jewel, Elfling,” the shop-keeper tapped his nose, making him squeeze his eyes shut, before kissing Faerlin’s cheek and turning to another customer.

Garrik followed Faerlin outside and Aldaraen met them, looking at Garrik in surprise. 

“You have quite a load there, Garrik! Here,” he laughed, and took half of the stack from him, “You have become a personal pack animal.”

“Thank you,” Garrik smiled at him, “I don’t mind, actually.”

“Spoken as a true slave,” Aldaraen winked at him and glanced at Faerlin, waiting for a reaction, but when there was none, he rolled his eyes.

“Ada, Mama,” Alinor cantered up to her family, mounted upon Forwen’s back, Ardir close behind her, “I will leave Ardir for you and send Forwen back later. I wish to go upon the mountain before night falls.”

“Ali’, what do you do there all this time?” Aldaraen sighed, and Garrik noticed the bulging saddle-packs simultaneously with the elder Elf, he could tell, “You spend much time on the mountain. We’ve never truly discussed—”

“It is my ‘Realm’, Ada,” she laughed, “I will send Forwen back. Farewell.”

Before she could spur away, Aldaraen lifted Forwen’s blanket and was taken aback by the packs being crammed with dried fish and herbs meant to soothe growing pains.

“Alinor, whatever are you doing?” Aldaraen looked up at her with an odd smile, “You are not seeing anyone, are you?”

“Of course not, Ada. I have no suiters…at least, none that you would approve,” she smiled at him teasingly, “I only jest, Ada.” She touched her father’s face fondly once, then Garrik’s and her mother’s, and spurred Forwen away at a gallop.

Garrik watched her disappear into the trees along the small trail leading back to the main road, and pressed his lips together.

Something did not seem exactly right with Alinor’s constant excursions to the Fire-Mountain and her only explanation of it being time for her own. 

He felt quite suspicious.

“She loses her lunch, then,” Faerlin shrugged, shaking her head, “We will sup at the Inn. Aldaraen, look what you have done, allowing our daughter to grow into some wild-hearted She-Elf with a love for the Forest alone. It is your duty alone to pull her away from that mountain.”

“I’ve tried every time you’ve asked me to,” Aldaraen said to her, a happy gleam still in his eye, “It is useless. It is her spirit, given to her by the Valar. Do not try to change it, Melamin. Be grateful she is so independent.”

Garrik turned away respectfully when Aldaraen leaned in and kissed his wife gently, saying to her quietly, 

“We could always remain here and not allow her to go to Rivendell to embarrass you with that wild spirit of hers.”

Faerlin raised her eyebrows at him and answered, “Do not even try your sorry excuses with me, Aldaraen Opherion. I know you are much cleverer than that.”

Garrik smiled when the couple laughed together like young Elves again and shared another kiss.

It made him happy, seeing the elder Elves this way. It gave him a sense of security.

Everything, at this time, was well. Everything, at this time, was peaceful.

~~~

“Menelaudh!” Alinor stood beside the river, looking up towards where she knew the ledge was hidden in the shadows, “Menelaudh, it is me, and I have brought some herbs! Come here!”

There was a quiet rustling and the silhouette of Menelaudh appeared before the mouth of the Fire-Mountain above, stronger, healthier wings spread as she glided towards the ground.

Alinor hopped out of the way as her friend landed heavily, as large as a horse now.

The mere weight of the dragon before, even at such a young age, continued to astonish Alinor immensely.

She could feel it in the ground when the animal landed from a glide.

“Small one, you have arrived,” Menelaudh smiled at her with her glowing blue eyes, the affectionate expression Alinor had come to know, “Did you find what you were searching for in Gwemyr?”

“Yes. It will ease the cramping you suffer from your swift growing,” Alinor crouched and opened the saddlebags, pulling out the bushels of herbs and extending them, “They are bitter, yes, but they will last many days. I paid a few silver coins for the lot of them, so you’d best not waste them!”

Menelaudh laughed and stretched her neck forward to nuzzle the She-Elf’s side affectionately, answering, “Thank you, small one.”

“Why do you call me small one now, since you have grown? I like the name Alinor, that is all,” Alinor smiled when Menelaudh closed her eyes tightly and tightened her face in reaction to the taste of the herbs she had swallowed in one gulp.

“Ech,” the dragon shook her head a few times, then looked back to Alinor and motioned with a claw towards her, “I like the way Small One sounds for you. It matches your appearance to me. I have yet to think of a surname for you.”

“You do not have to think of a surname,” Alinor smiled, “My parents have not even thought of one yet, besides ‘Alinor the Stubborn’.”

“The stubborn, yes, but the strong willed. I wish to think of a name to call you soon. A dragon name,” Menelaudh bent and nuzzled at the saddle-packs, “Would you care to share in the fish?”

“No, it is for you,” Alinor replied, “Here.” She dumped the fish into a large pile and watched as Menelaudh began to eat, daintily, she fancied, for a dragon. 

Menelaudh was a Dragoness, and Alinor wondered if female dragons were any more appropriately mannered than the males.

“My parents still talk of departing for Mirkwood nearly every week. I do not think there is the chance of Mama changing her mind and allowing me, at least, to stay,” Alinor began, sitting down, “At least you shall be old enough to fly away and make for a home of your own. Find another FireDrake and…and settle down.”

“Drakes have been nearly hunted into extinction,” Menelaudh said after swallowing, “I’m not entirely sure how simple that will be, finding a mate.”

“You’ll do fine. You know all the secret places of the dragons,” Alinor smiled.

“Only what was passed to me through my parent’s magic. It is instinct, I guess,” Menelaudh bent back to her meal, “I am not ready for us to be parted yet. Perhaps I may find a home in the Trollshaws..?”

“Lord Elrond’s People would hunt you down, Menelaudh,” Alinor said sadly.

“Well, tell them that I am a friend,” Menelaudh said indignantly.

“It is not that easy,” Alinor frowned, “Though I wish it were. I must think heavily on how to tell my family, as it is. Our relationship is…unheard of!”

“If they hate you for caring for me, then they are not the parents you think they are, and you are better off finding a new home with me,” Menelaudh finished and crouched, tucking her wings about her snugly, “That would not be too bad, unless you wish to seek out a mate of your own.”

“One day, Menelaudh, I will have a spouse and a family. In fact, I should be considering suiting Elves now. I have come of age and it is appropriate, at this time,” Alinor groaned and rolled her eyes, lying down next to her friend, “I do not even want to consider the thought.”

“Choose wisely, Melamin,” Menelaudh said, including the young Elf under her wing, “For you will be with him for life and carry his young. Be sure he truly loves you, is kind-hearted and sweet mannered.”

Alinor was silent, many thoughts running through her mind, thoughts she wouldn’t speak aloud. 

“Are there any Elves here, besides your family?” Menelaudh asked.

“Only one, but he is as a brother to me,” Alinor said quietly, “Garrik LuckChild.”

“LuckChild. That is indeed an odd surname,” Menelaudh mused.

“He has not a true one, yet,” Alinor said, “It is really a nickname, of sorts, that he somewhat despises.”

“Give him one.”

“Me?” Alinor looked at her friend with round eyes, “Only great loved ones or folk of position should bestow surnames. I would only give if I were asked.”

“We have not gotten far in our discussing of Elven customs, but for their speech,” Menelaudh lowered her head again, “It was a mere suggestion. How long may you stay here with me this evening?”

“A couple hours, at most,” Alinor replied, and leaned against the dragon’s warm, scaled body, kissing the top of her head, “I will stay as long as I might. I enjoy our talks and time together. Sometimes, I feel as if you are the only being who fully understands my predicament and sympathizes.”

“That is because you talk unhindered to me,” Menelaudh smiled again with her eyes, “And, small one, if ever anyone is bothering or harming you, merely let me know. I will take care of him as a cat does a mouse. Like the twins you so despise in Rivendell.”

Alinor laughed and kicked her feet up in the air as she did so, rolling onto her back lazily, “I know you will, my friend! But I do not know if I wish death upon the brats, yet! I wish I could offer the same help to you, but, alas, I know not how to effectively battle dragons.”

“When I become fully armored and understand myself better, than perhaps we may work on that,” Menelaudh said, “In case I am ever in need.”

“I would help you, unable to or not,” Alinor patted the dragon’s side, “Now let’s talk on other matters. Are you able to fly yet?”

“No. But soon, very soon. I can feel it. My wings have grown quickly,” Menelaudh replied, “Let us walk outside and I will show you how large they have become.”

“I’ll follow you,” Alinor stood and waited for Menelaudh to rise before following the large animal towards the cave entrance, her black scales shining.

A great feeling of honor swept over Alinor that she should be able to have friendship with this marvelous and widely feared beast.

Menelaudh’s kind nature just proved to Alinor that the dragons in great tales were corrupted by a greater, darker magic than their own, swayed with shining things and treasures.

Raebidus was correct when he had told her it was in how a young thing is raised.  
She would be sad to leave such a good, wise, young friend and companion behind when Rivendell called.

It hurt her more to think of it than when she had first left Mirkwood.

~~~

~ A few days later…

“Ada, Mama!” Alinor trotted through the house, calling her parents, but she was hearing no response.

She went outside and saw her mother not too far ahead of her, walking towards the garden where Aldaraen and Aldariil were doing light work, harvesting vegetables from vines.

She picked up her pace to catch her mother and stood a small way behind her when Faerlin leaned on the fence, watching her husband and son working together.

“Did you need something, Mama?” Aldariil looked at her, dropping things into a basket beside the fence.

“It’s for your father,” Faerlin answered, and, at the mention, Aldaraen stood from what he was doing, looking at her with raised eyebrows, as if expecting a trick.

Faerlin smiled at him and beckoned.

Aldaraen kept his careful, humorously suspicious expression when he wiped his hands and face on his tunic, approaching her.

“Here,” Faerlin extended a hand with something wrapped in a napkin in her palm, “They finally came in. I guess we were treating the soil wrong. Numonex told me, believe it or not, and I fixed it. They grew afterwards.”

Aldaraen took it from her and unwrapped it, laughing when he saw what it held.

“A strawberry? I haven’t one of these in years!” he looked up at her again, “Thank you, Melamin.”

“You love strawberries?” Aldariil giggled, and Aldaraen glanced at him, replying,

“Yes. They are quite good, and I’ve loved them since I was an Elfling. I used to pilfer them for your Uncle Thran’ and I,” he looked at Faerlin, “Are there more?”

“Yes, but I thought you’d like one right away,” Faerlin smiled at him wryly, “It reminded me of a certain bratty Prince I once knew.”

“Yes, well, you happened to fall in love with that bratty Prince and accept his pledge,” Aldaraen ate half of his fruit before handing it to Aldariil, “Not to mention, followed him to a small town of Men and built a home with him. You must truly love him, so he doesn’t take your jabs to heart.”

“As he shouldn’t,” Faerlin looked to Alinor when she stood beside her, “Hurry and finish so you can have some lunch. Alinor, have you seen Garrik?”

“That is what I was coming to ask you and Ada. I could find him nowhere and I finished mending his blouse,” Alinor didn’t know what to think. This had never happened with the young Elf before, him just disappearing, so she hoped that her father knew his whereabouts.

“He left a few hours ago,” Aldaraen answered, looking past them towards the first risings of the Fire-Mountain, “He wished to go upon the mountain for a rest and practice his aim. I cannot deny him the wish for peace.”

“Is he hunting?” Alinor said, feeling her heart beginning to beat a little faster.

“I’m sure he might hunt or track for a short time. He said he was going back towards his brother to pay him a visit, as well, and they might go together. He took Ardir. Every young Elf has a time when they wish to hunt, for the excitement of it. I know Garrik would do nothing cruel, and would use the beast he fells for a good cause. Perhaps just giving it to a poor family of Men for meat. I’ve done it before, though that was a long, long time ago,” Aldaraen answered her, “Is there a concern of yours?”

“Why would he be hunting on the Fire-Mountain, so close to where he used to live? He never hunts,” Alinor seemed to be asking herself the question more than her family, and she looked up at her father with wide eyes before turning abruptly and dashing towards the forest path, whistling for Forwen.

The horse galloped from the stables and Alinor leapt lightly onto her back, urging her forward swiftly.

“Alinor!” Aldaraen yelled after her, putting a hand on the fence and vaulting across it. He only ran a few strides before stopping, knowing it was useless, “Alinor, stop!”

“What has come over our child?” Faerlin joined him, eyes wide as she gazed at the fallen leaves swirling in Forwen’s wake, “She is still in her gown. Aldaraen, what has possessed her?”

“Nothing, Melamin. There must be something on that mountain that she cares for that she is not telling us of. Our daughter is keeping secrets from us,” Aldaraen swallowed and looked at his wife, “She does not trust we will be pleased with whatever decisions she is making upon the Mountain. That is the only explanation.”

“We need confront her, before this leads to other things we do not desire,” Faerlin said quietly, “When those two young rascals return, we will speak with her tonight. I told you. If she is not wed past the age of 100, strange things will happen to her. I was right. Again.”

“Agreed,” Aldaraen sighed, crossing his arms across his chest, “I just pray to the Valar that it is no terrible thing.”

~~~

Garrik had dropped by the house to say hello and take a drink with him, asking if he wished to accompany him back the caverns beneath the Fire-Mountain.

Raebidus had to decline, as one of the cows was to have a calf this day and he couldn’t leave her, to his chagrin.

Garrik had seemed disappointed, but had departed immediately after the conversation, riding a large black stallion into the trees, dressed in his old black uniform.

The situation was rather odd, to Raebidus, for he had not seen Garrik wearing all black for a while, even the facial covering, so he assumed that he was attempting to camouflage in the darkness of the caverns.

He must be hunting or tracking, but whatever he was searching for, Raebidus had not a clue. 

There was nothing in those caverns, he had decided many years ago.

Garrik’s longer black hair gave him a different look, as well. He was beginning to grow more and more foreign, to Raebidus, and he was disappointed. 

Garrik was happy, however, and that was what mattered. They were still very close, as it was, and Raebidus knew he shouldn’t complain.

He finished drying the dishes he had used for his meal and picked up the stacks of old blankets he would use for the calf, kicking the door open with his boot.

It took him a moment to realize what stood before him, for it was quite surprising, and he stared at the small group of people in shock.

Two tall, young Men stood before him and a shorter one between them. They were all armed with swords and staffs.

“Aha, just the man we were looking for,” one of them said, and Raebidus immediately thought, ‘Brigands!’ He slammed the door shut and turned, dashing back into the house, his heart dropping. 

‘This has turned out to be a very odd day, let’s hope it will not also be a bloody one,’ he thought, then added to himself, ‘Why is it I meet all the strangest people right at my doorstep?’

“Wait, we--!” one of them shouted after him, but Raebidus dove under his bed and reached beneath it desperately, searching for his father’s sword, not caring to hear whatever the intruders were about to say. His hand closed around the cold, familiar hilt, his father having taught him in its use during his time, and crawled back from under the bed, pulling it with him.

“Hello, we didn’t mean to—“ 

The voice of one of the strangers standing in his room frightened Raebidus so badly that he nearly dropped his weapon as he stood, whirling around, wielding the sword ferociously.

“Whoa, whoa! Defensive, De-fen-sive!” one of the Men waved the other two back as if to take charge of the situation and, for a moment, Raebidus thought that they couldn’t be serious. They almost seemed comical, the way they dressed.

With a wave of a staff he carried, the other tall Man that had been pushed back, dressed in white, spoke a few words and Raebidus felt his hands grow numb, his sword clattering to the ground.

“Get back! All of you!” He found he couldn’t move, but he still yelled at them like he would attack, staring at each of their odd, surprised faces furiously in turn, “I said get back! Get out of my house, or I’ll kill you all!”

“We didn’t mean to frighten you. We needed to talk to you. We’re rather lost,” the shorter, younger Man, who didn’t seem to be yet 18 years of age, said from behind the taller Men, “We’re sorry.”

Raebidus narrowed his eyes at them, still straining against whatever held him, “Who are you? How do you work this magic? Do you serve the Dark Lord?”

“Oh, goodness, no!” the Man in white said, eyes going wide, “We were actually placed here to…to help against him. We are looking for a Prince, who we were told resides near this Fire-Mountain.”

Raebidus felt sick, suddenly, for Aldaraen’s family, and he said carefully, “What sort of Prince? There is no royalty here but for the Master of the town of Gwemyr. And he is no royalty.”

“A Prince of Sindarin and Silvan blood,” the Man clad in grey replied, turning his head, “Are you not a Prince or King yourself, leader of a People? Your brother is also rightfully a King, living under the Prince of Mirkwood?”

Raebidus swallowed before he answered calmly, “No, and I have not an idea of where you came up with that.”

The three Men glanced at one another, then the one dressed in white said, “We are Wizards. Sent here to deliver a message to the Prince of Greenwood the Great, GoldenFlower, or DragonScar, as he has been called. You will aid us if you wish to save his life.”

“Wizards? Oh, that’s just great,” Raebidus struggled again against the spell, and the man dressed in white looked surprised, saying,

“Oh, sorry. I had quite forgotten I had placed that spell on you.”

Raebidus fell to his knees suddenly as if a great burden had been lifted from him, and he stood quickly, reaching for his sword, but one of the so-called Wizards said to him, 

“I will cast the spell again if you reach for your weapon. None of us here wish to beg a new form so quickly.”

“What?” Raebidus actually looked at them in slight disgust, “I believe you are all crazy. You are at the wrong house, and the wrong Realm. You will find the Prince of Mirkwood…IN MIRKWOOD! Now get out of my house!” 

“Will you at least lend us some tea?” the grey Wizard said, motioning to the shorter boy, “He has the sniffles.”

“The…sniffles…” Raebidus repeated dumbly.

“That’s what I said,” the grey Wizard looked at him queerly, “It seems you might also want to consider some tea, for you own health.”

Raebidus stared hard at all three Wizards, then shoved his sword through his belt and said, “Very well. You may have some tea and then be on your way.”

They shrugged, but didn’t agree, Raebidus noticed, and couldn’t help a quiet groan as he led them down the hall.

~

“Here you are,” he leaned across the table and poured the sniffling brown Wizard a cup of tea, then did the same for the grey and white Wizards, as he had come to know them.

“Thank you,” the white Wizard said, then added, “I guess we should tell you who we are.”

“Yes, he is now known as Saruman, the short one is Radagast, and I am Gandalf,” the grey Wizard interrupted, “We used to be known as other names, but—“

“I don’t fancy he would be interested much in our long, boring history,” Saruman said, “And we don’t particularly wish to impede on you, boy. We will pay you to allow us to spend a night here, as we have been traveling very far in search of this small town. We are also willing to barter anything in the return of you leading us to the Prince’s home.”

“Why are you so interested—“

“Because, boy, we have a message for him that just might save his young life,” Gandalf said, and Raebidus was taken aback, slightly, for the thought of Aldaraen being young had never crossed his mind. 

How old, exactly, were these people?

“How do I know you are not sent by Saur—“

“You are aware of many of the goings-on in Middle-Earth for being such a young, lonely Man in the middle of, literally, nowhere,” Gandalf raised his eyebrows at him, “Just for the sake of it, do we look like murderers to you?”

“I suppose not, but then again, Elves don’t particularly appear that way either,” Raebidus half-closed his eyes.

“Ah, but you know what Elves look like! You must have seen one!” Gandalf exclaimed, and Saruman sighed heavily, “Then you will take us to the Prince.”

“I will not. Not until I—“

“You have a strong potency for magic, lad, for being a mere Man. Was your father a Wizard?” Saruman asked innocently.

“No, but he dabbled in magic…”

“Dark magic?” Saruman asked.

Raebidus glared at him.

“We know who you are, perfectly well, Master Raebidus,” Saruman nodded to him, “And we are not here to harm the Elven family. If you so wish, we might teach you of the good side of magic, and, in return, you will take us to the Prince, so that we might speak with him.”

“What do you say to that?”

~~~


	8. Heirs~Chapter 7

Garrik could hear something very close to humming coming from up the rise near the cave entrance under the Fire-Mountain, something large splashing in the river.

Alinor’s constant questions and writings about dragons had made him very suspicious. Then, all of her odd behavior and sudden trips to the mountain with dried fish, medicinal herbs, old items from the family, and coming home with occasional scratches and markings, had built up in his mind until Garrik could ignore his curiosity no longer. 

He leapt lightly, silently, onto the top of one of the boulders rimming the waterfall, exactly where he had first seen Alinor’s family.

He was pleased with his heavily trained tracking and stalking skills. He would be forever in Aldaraen’s family’s debt.

He narrowed his eyes in utter shock, stomach twisting in a mixture of excitement and fear, when he saw the horse-sized, glimmering black beast spinning in the water below, leaping and splashing. It was humming a song to itself.

It spread its wings and shook them out, each wing amazingly large for the dragon’s size, water running down the leathery looking skin in shining rivulets.

It shouldn’t be able to fly yet, or breath fire, or be fully armored. An arrow should be able to pierce its hide in a tender place.

Garrik prayed that Raebdon’s information passed on to him was correct. 

He wished his brother were here to share the moment, what Raebdon had pressed on them to accomplish with his last breaths. 

Here was Garrik’s chance to safe Gwemyr from possible destruction, destroy one of the beasts that had so wrecked Aldaraen’s life, make the Elf proud of him...

He drew an arrow to his ear smoothly, silently, and took aim for its chest.

With a start, he realized that he did not know exactly where soft spots were on a young dragon’s armor.

He cursed to himself quietly and decided to just guess as best as he might.

He fired, but the arrow deflected, and the young dragon looked towards him in shock, admittedly beautiful blue eyes wide.

It glanced towards the cave, but when Garrik fired another unsuccessful arrow, the dragon exploded from the water in a million sparkling droplets, spreading its wings and gliding down the steep rise towards a meadow, and then the forest.

Garrik couldn’t help thinking it was odd. The dragon would have been more than a fair match for him to battle. He didn’t understand why it was fleeing.

He slung his satchel over his shoulder again and gave chase, not even a quarter of the way down the steep cliff before the dragon had touched the ground and was galloping towards the trees almost clumsily.

Garrik knew he might lose the beast in the trees, so he picked up his pace, making dangerous leaps and slides.

He landed heavily on the ground, kneeling, then sprinted after the beast, nocking another arrow to his bow.

He was grateful the young dragon couldn’t fly yet.

~~~

Alinor didn’t even wait for Forwen to come to a complete halt before she sprang from the horse’s back, landing lightly and running towards the river as soon as her feet touched ground.

There was nothing there except wet mud and grass, and Alinor paused, knowing she had heard a ruckus just before reaching the top of the rise.

She dashed to the edge of the cliff opposite the river and looked down, just in time to see Garrik land heavily in the meadow and give chase to Menelaudh, who was making for the trees.

He must’ve caught her outside the cave in the river, for the dragon was still gleaming with water.

Alinor snarled to herself in irritation and, for the first time in her life, felt a great anger towards the young Avari below her.

“Garrik!” she screamed after him, watching in horror as he fired an arrow, which deflected, to her relief, “Garrik, do not harm her!” She knew Garrik couldn’t hear her, and she swung herself over the edge of the cliff.

Her training in the Mirkwood trees with Yaeran and Eardaneth had made her far more agile than Garrik, who was still learning from her father, and she made it down the cliff quickly, leaping only a few times.

She was running so hard after Garrik that she nearly fell forward once, but she was catching him. 

He didn’t have to sprint so fast after Menelaudh, who could not gallop that swiftly, as it was, but he was leaving a healthy, careful distance between themselves.

“Garrik! Let her alone, you idiot!” she yelled, but Garrik showed no sign of hearing her.  
Alinor growled to herself and put on another spurt of speed. 

If Menelaudh turned on Garrik, she didn’t know what the dragon would do, and it frightened her.

For both of her friends’ safety.

~~~

The dragon disappeared into the trees ahead and Garrik slowed his run slightly, eyes narrowing. 

He entered the undergrowth and stopped.

The dragon had obviously not gone far, for there was no passage of broken leaves and twigs to be seen. 

The hair on his neck and arms began to rise and he turned abruptly, just as the gleaming black beast pounced forward like a housecat from a cluster of bushes, having pressed itself low to the ground like a serpent.

Garrik yelped in shock, not expecting such a graceful, light movement from a reptile as large as a warhorse, and landed heavily in a sitting position when the beast merely punched him squarely in the chest with its hard muzzle.

He hadn’t exactly fancied himself meeting a dragon this day, so he wasn’t well prepared, having only brought his bow.

He scrambled backwards but the dragon reached out a foot and carefully pressed it over his chest, pinning him against the ground, though still not harming him.

“What did I do to deserve you firing upon me?” it hissed, and Garrik was doubly surprised to hear the voice of a young female, “Who are you?”

It was most awkward to be conversing with a beast he had been hunting and Garrik honestly didn’t know what to say.

“Speak, or else I’ll--!” the dragon began loudly, but another female voice shouted commandingly, 

“Menelaudh! Lirilla ndu. Ro naa Garrik, Mellonamin!” 

The dragon looked up with a different expression and hopped away from Garrik, glancing at him.

Garrik felt his eyes bulge when Alinor practically skidded to a stop before the dragon, still dressed in a gown, unarmed.

The dragon took a few steps to put Alinor between Garrik and itself, responding quietly, “He was trying to slay me. I did not know what to do. I did not know that he was your friend. I’m sorry.”

“You did as you could, my friend. He is to blame,” Alinor glared at Garrik, although he could see, also, in her fiery expression, the relief that he was unharmed.

“You know this beast?” he asked breathlessly, feeling embarrassed when his voice cracked.

“Yes. And she is no beast. She is a friend and sister to me. Her name is Menelaudh, Kindest of Dragons,” Alinor put her hands on her hips, “Get up and come here.”

Garrik was surprised to find himself obeying, albeit very cautiously.

Menelaudh narrowed her blue eyes at him and he looked away, amazed that there was a dragon standing behind his friend, calmly, trustingly. The dragon trusted Alinor to protect it. He was baffled.

“She will not harm you, Garrik,” Alinor said, laying a hand on Menelaudh’s shoulder, “I was going to tell everyone. I swear by my ancestors. But it was not yet time.”

“By the Valar,” he cursed quietly, staring up at the dragon when it raised her head majestically, curling it over Alinor, “You have taken a FireDrake for a pet.”

“A companion. She needed help,” Alinor said, “Apologize to her, Garrik.”  
Menelaudh nodded, and Garrik thought she looked akin to a spurned child, awaiting recompense. 

For a moment, he was loath to apologize to such a beast, then he sighed, and the correct feeling welled in his heart, realizing his mistake and crushing his pride. He lowered his gaze and said, “I’m sorry, Menelaudh. I am…deeply ashamed that I was hunting you that way. I admit, hearing you speak makes me feel all the worse, feeling that instead of hunting a dumb animal, I would have been murdering a wise being.”

Menelaudh glanced at Alinor with furrowed eyes, and Alinor smiled at her, saying quietly, “He is sorry. And he means it. I can tell.” She looked at Garrik somewhat gratefully.

“Garrik, Friend of Alinor, I, also, apologize for hitting you in the chest and placing a foot upon you. I think I scared you, as you scared me,” Menelaudh lowered her head and blinked slowly.

“Oh, no, it is quite alright,” Garrik cleared his throat to still the shaking in it, “Of course I forgive you.”

At the mention of him accepting her apology, Menelaudh’s entire expression lit and she bounced forward immediately, knocking Alinor accidentally out of the way, and nuzzled Garrik’s shoulder. She almost reminded him of a puppy.

He patted her nose somewhat nervously, and she exclaimed, swinging her head back towards Alinor, “I have, at last, met someone new! One of your friends! Now you both may visit me! Oh, I’m sorry. Did I knock you over?”

Alinor took the dragon’s proffered claw and Menelaudh pulled her to her feet gently.  
“Perhaps, if Garrik is… willing to… not...” 

Garrik stared into Alinor’s pleading green gaze, then said slowly, “The secret of Menelaudh is safe with me, if I may continue to visit your companion, and study her. I swear upon my mother’s pendant.” He extended his hand to the She-Elf and she smiled at him gratefully, returning the gesture.

“Yay!” the more Menelaudh spoke, the younger she seemed, “What are we going to do now?”

“Garrik and I should go home and explain to my parents where we’ve been. I believe I left in a huff,” Alinor answered, “And you should finish your bath and get back into the caverns.”

“Yes, my brother might come searching for me, and I am not so sure he will keep you a secret, Dragon,” Garrik said.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” Menelaudh’s wings drooped.

“I will try,” Alinor bowed to her slightly before finishing, “Let us walk together. I would like Garrik to get to know you better before we depart.”

Garrik flinched slightly when the dragon bounded about him a couple times, as if asking to play, but he was still in shock, and merely smiled.

Raebidus had definitely been correct in saying that in meeting Aldaraen’s family, his life would never be the same.

Who would’ve imagined this?

~~~

~ Later that night…

“I throw the fish out for the lynx family, for they are still weak since we have released them. I only take the extra fish, I do not have to pay,” even as Alinor was speaking the lie, she felt sick in the heart, and she could see plainly that Garrik felt the same way, his head slightly bowed, gaze sad.

The lynxes were no lie, for the family had saved them from a trap meant to ensnare rabbits and hares.  A mother and two kits, there had been, and Aldaraen had released them back onto the mountain.

“I tried to befriend them, but they are still very wild and vicious. Other than that, I have merely been exploring upon the mountain,” Alinor finished.

Aldaraen and Faerlin both were gazing at her with worried expressions, seeming as if they wished to believe her.

“I do not wish for you to continue feeding the lynxes. The people in Gwemyr hunt them for their fur, and I do not wish to see you hurt if they are ever caught fairly,” Aldaraen said slowly, but Alinor could tell, in his heart, her father didn’t truly believe all that she was saying.

“Alinor, you should be punished for sneaking onto the mountain like that and not speaking to us of the lynxes,” Faerlin said, although she seemed relieved of something, “You may only go upon the mountain for the next month if you are accompanied. Preferably by Garrik, for I know he will keep an eye on you.”

Garrik seemed even more guilty, but he shared a glance with Alinor, knowing the same, slightly relieving thoughts were running through her head.

“Dismissed, then,” Aldaraen seemed happy to be finished with the questioning and reprimanding.

Alinor and Garrik both stood swiftly and made their way towards their own chambers.  
“Garrik—“ Alinor began, but the Avari interrupted her, saying quietly, yet not unkindly,  
“Ali’, we will speak later. I am not feeling well.”

Alinor understood, for she was feeling guilt as she had never before, making her ill.

Soon. Soon, she would tell her parents of the dragon, she told herself, closing her chamber door behind her carefully. She gently touched her fingertips to the dragon carved into the doorframe.

She just had to find a way to introduce Menelaudh as a friend, and not frighten her father to death.

It would be hardest for him; she was sure of it.

~~~

~ Nearly a year later…

“According to Raebdon, you should be able to fly now,” Garrik yelled above the wind, struggling up the steep incline on the side of the mountain, “I guess we will just have to see. You should be alright, either way, because you can glide down if things do not go well!”

Menelaudh nodded that she understood, desperately trying to keep her wings close to her body against the horrendously strong wind.

Garrik had tied a rope about the Firedrake’s chest and shoulders, helping to pull her up the side of the mountain, for the wind occasionally blew Menelaudh’s wings open and she would be buffeted backwards. It was tied to his own thigh. He was very strong now, fully grown, and he was able to keep Menelaudh securely in place, for the most part. He was nearly as strong as Aldaraen, who had, of late, been letting Garrik wear some of his clothes while Faerlin made him larger ones and, she had said with a laugh, hopefully his last.

In this last year, he had finally passed Aldaraen in height, although by very little, and the Prince seemed very proud of him.

Alinor was behind Menelaudh, steadying her haunches on the icy path.

Garrik had grown to be the closest of companions with Menelaudh, also getting to spend lots of enjoyable time with Alinor, teaching her more of dragons and helping to raise Menelaudh. This was why they were trudging near the top of the opposite side of the Fire-Mountain with such a high wind in the coldest days of winter, for Menelaudh needed to learn how to fly, and he was going to help her.

“Here we are, love!” Garrik called to Menelaudh and she stood over him, Garrik nearly able to stand unbent between her front legs. She had grown over the year, as well, but it was another slow one, in the time of dragons. The next few years ahead would show staggering growth.

Menelaudh peered out over the drop-off, the great, snow covered pines below seemed like small scratch marks, to her.

“It should be perfectly natural for you, and your wings should support your weight,” Garrik said loudly to her, patting her firmly on the shoulder, “Flap and experiment as you descend. If there are problems, just glide down. Beware of the ice of the lake. I do not think it has frozen completely yet. Glide all the way across it, that should be no issue for you. It is all water on this side.”

Menelaudh narrowed her blue eyes against the wind.

“Are you frightened?” Alinor appeared at Menelaudh’s side as the dragon crouched, and she held to her scales for stabilization against the wind.

“No, Small Sister. Shall I go when I am ready?” the dragon asked, looking down at them.

“Yes, whenever. Take your time, for if you wish to try again, you will have to climb up these slippery slopes again,” Garrik responded, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, “We will be cheering the entire way! Good luck, Men’!”

Menelaudh nodded and stood, balancing precariously at the edge for a moment, then she wiggled slightly and leapt off the side, immediately disappearing over the rim.

Garrik ran to the side and looked down, calling, “Flap and use your tail!” 

Alinor smiled, watching him yell instructions like a father at the dragon over the precipice, but her smile immediately disappeared when she saw the rope slack, still tied around Menelaudh’s chest, burst from the snow as she descended, following her over the cliff.

“Garrik!” she screamed once, leaping for his thigh, where the rope was still attached to him, but in a fraction of a second, he was gone, his surprised shout cut short.

Alinor choked on her own air in shock, the entire situation having gone nightmare so quickly, and she threw herself on hands and knees in the snow, leaning over the precipice. 

It had all happened so quickly that Garrik still wasn’t entirely sure what had transpired, until he came to an abrupt halt, painfully, in the air, upside-down. 

He was faced with Menelaudh’s belly and spread wings above him, and he realized, now, what his situation was.

The dragon looked down at him with wide, shocked eyes, and Garrik shouted, “Sorry!”

She smiled at him, still looking down, and replied, “It is well that I can support your weight, Small Brother. I cannot fly, however. You are too heavy for that.”

Garrik pulled his dagger from his belt and wrapped the rope securely around his forearm, the muscles in his stomach trembling in his curled position, and cut the rope from his thigh, able to hang up-right now.

“Menelaudh!” he called worriedly, after observing the terrain before and behind them, “Menelaudh, you cannot glide past the ice with me hanging onto you. I am too heavy!”

“We will see if the ice is solid then!” Menelaudh answered, dipping lower.

“No! You will not be able to get out of the water if you fall in, for your wings! You will drown!” Garrik knew it was going to hurt badly before he even said it, “I will take my chances and drop. Get onto the shore, alright? I will be right there. We are past halfway!”

“Garrik, you—“ Menelaudh looked down in horror when Garrik let the rope slip from his hands and the sudden weight release allowed her to flap somewhat clumsily, gaining more altitude.

He fell quietly, sending a prayer to the Valar. He hit the ice hard, searing pain shooting up one of his legs and his spine, falling easily through the ice and becoming completely submerged. 

The cold was shocking and he was very still for a moment, feeling the cold erasing the pain he had initially felt in his leg. Perhaps that was a good thing.

He broke the surface again with a gasp and grasped desperately for ice to hold onto, black hair plastered to his head.

He distantly registered Menelaudh calling him, and he looked above his head when a shadow fell across him. 

There was the beautiful black dragon, hovering above him, backwashing air with her magnificent wingspan, and she smiled, seeming to forget his predicament, and performed a happy somersault in the air.

Even though his teeth were chattering, and he couldn’t quite pull himself from the water, Garrik managed to cheer at her in a yell, happiness for her swelling his heart, which, at the moment, was beginning to feel slightly constricted.

Alinor slid and rushed down the steep mountain trail, vaulting over the large boulders and fallen trees, until she was past halfway down the mountain and she stopped, scanning the lake and air before her for Menelaudh and Garrik. It was very quiet, to her worry, and she took a few quick breaths before calling, “Menelaudh! Garrik!”

There was another long silence, and Alinor cupped her hands about her mouth, making the very high, wolf-like howling sound that Menelaudh preferred the two Elves to call her from long distances with. It reached her hearing better, was her reason.

After a few long seconds, Menelaudh shot past her, very close, actually, as Alinor was standing at the edge of the precipice, and the dragon flew past, upwards, very fast, having been following the slope of the mountain, roaring in happiness. Her passing wind swept away Alinor’s hood and she broke into a huge smile, shouting, 

“You’re doing it! You’re flying!” 

It took her a moment to realize that Garrik was no longer attached to the rope around Menelaudh’s chest, and Alinor felt concerned.

He should be alright, as Menelaudh didn’t seem upset, but something didn’t sit well with Alinor. She didn’t think the young dragon was capable of carrying that weight on her first flight.

She called Menelaudh again with the high-pitched, eerie howl, and the dragon swooped down to perch on a boulder next to the She-Elf.

“Yes, Alinor?” she tilted her head, and Alinor said,

“Where is Garrik?”

“Oh,” Menelaudh motioned with her head towards the lake, “He fell into the water.”

“Menelaudh, that is a long fall! And he must’ve hit the ice!” 

“No, he was in the water, and I think he’s alright,” Menelaudh answered calmly, shaking snow from her black scales.

“He’ll freeze! Elves cannot be in freezing water like that, Menelaudh. He’ll die!” Alinor could plainly see the shock come across the dragon’s face, and she leapt off the cliff, flying swiftly towards what looked to be a broken place in the ice.

Alinor made it down the rest of the slippery slope and began the sprint along the shore, heading for the place nearest to Garrik.

Menelaudh hovered as low as she dared, keeping Garrik’s warning in mind, advising her not to get her wings wet, and spotted him clinging to the edge of the broken ice, eyes closed as if in concentration.

“Garrik!” she called to him, but he didn’t open his eyes, “Garrik, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know that it was bad for you.”

“Men’, I can’t move,” she could barely hear him and was grateful for her sharp, predatory hearing, “I’m rather dizzy. You’ll have to help me.”

Menelaudh whimpered, suddenly feeling quite alone, and she looked about the lake for Alinor. She was standing on the far shore, but wouldn’t venture out onto the thin ice. Menelaudh needed instruction now, more than ever, from the elder Elves, but it seemed it was time for her to figure this out on her own.

“Do you think you can grip my tail?” she called to Garrik, and he kept his eyes shut, barely nodding his head.

“Just hurry, Men’,” he replied, in a quiet volume.

Menelaudh positioned herself, holding her breath she was concentrating so hard, dangling her tail ever closer and closer to Garrik’s outreached, trembling hand.

She felt him grasp one of the spikes near the end of her tail, and she flapped a few times, but his weight kept her firmly in place. 

Next, and last, strategy, she lowered herself even more, stretching her claws for him. She managed to hook the claws of one foot into his cloak and back-flapped a few times, dragging him roughly out of the water and onto the ice. She cringed inwardly, knowing that she must’ve hurt him, because he pressed his lips together.

She released him, but there was a loud crack when he landed on the ice, and she quickly reached for him again, snagging his clothes more securely. She began flapping, huffing now, and sliding him along the ice towards the shore.

Alinor took a few tentative steps towards them, but sprang back when the ice gave way slightly beneath her weight.

She waited until Menelaudh reached her, the wind from her wings great. 

The dragon released Garrik into the snow and he raised himself clumsily to his hands and knees before rolling into a sitting position, his limbs shaking uncontrollably. 

“Who forgets a rope about their leg?” Alinor said, kneeling next to him and feeling his icy hands, “We need to get you back home immediately.”

“I don’t think I can walk. I believe I broke my leg, but at least Menelaudh is still well and dry. She is flying!” Garrik dabbed carefully at his lip, which was bleeding and swollen, “I hit rather hard, and it was slippery. I fell wrong because of it.”

“Should I try to make a fire?” Menelaudh landed next to them, eyes wide.

“No, we will go home quickly,” Alinor responded, “Thank you, though.”

“I’m so sorry, Garrik,” Menelaudh nudged him, touching him gently with her wingtip, “I hope you are well.”

“I am, Love, don’t worry,” Garrik answered, staring forward dully.

Alinor was worried for him, because she had never heard teeth chattering as her friends were now, and his lips were beginning to turn a dark blue, stark against his naturally pale skin.

“Come on, Garrik,” Alinor took his arm and he leaned heavily against her, “Let us begin walking to warm you up.”

“Y-Y-Your father is going to murder me,” he stammered, baring his teeth, “What are we going to t-t-tell him?”

“You fell through the ice. That’s it. If he finds out at all,” Alinor answered.

“Then he’ll think I’m an idiot,” Garrik smiled oddly, shaking his head vehemently, “I would not want him to think that. Ever.”

~~~

Aldariil finished pushing the two stones he had found into his snowman’s face, backing up and putting his hands on his thin hips, admiring his work. He hoped it would help keep the birds from their garden, for he had dressed it in old clothes.

The dull thumping of horse’s hooves made him turn and he watched as Alinor and Garrik rode across the bridge together, laughing.

To his shock, Aldariil noticed that Garrik was wet and his lip and chin were bleeding, as if he had fallen very hard on rocks, or had gotten into a very bad fistfight.

“What happened to you?” he approached them after they had dismounted, tying his scarf more securely about his neck, “Have you been battling a dragon or some such?”

Garrik and Alinor looked at him oddly, then Garrik said, “I fell through ice.” His black hair was frozen in spikes in some places.

“Must’ve been a hard fall, for you’re all bruised and cut up,” Aldariil leaned left and right, observing his friend, “And you’re favoring your other leg.”

“I fell…off a…off a cliff,” Garrik smiled sheepishly, definitely not the expression Aldariil was expecting to see.

“Ada and Mama won’t be home for a few days yet, helping Numonex’s family since he fell ill,” Alinor said, leading Garrik towards the house, “I’ll take care of him. Don’t worry over it, Aldariil.”

“If you don’t tell me what you were doing, I’ll tell Ada and Mama,” Aldariil crossed his arms, “You never take me with you anymore, Ali’. You go everywhere with Garrik, mostly. You’re up to something. I’ve tried following you, but I lose you each time.”

Alinor froze, then turned and looked at him with half-closed eyes, saying, “If we tell you anything, you will give me your oath that you shall not speak of it to our parents until I deem it the time.”

“Of course,” Aldariil was relieved, sure that she would’ve withheld something from him, “You have my word.”

Garrik looked at her with wide, black eyes, but Alinor said to him, “Best to tell him now. One less individual to explain something to in the future.”

“Come, Aldariil,” she finished to her younger brother, “Let us get Garrik inside and we’ll speak to you of it. Remember your oath, no matter how surprised you are.”

“I’m sure there isn’t anything you can surprise me that terribly with,” Aldariil laughed, but by the glance that Garrik and Alinor shared, along with a small smile, he wasn’t quite sure he was correct.

~~~

~ A few days later…

“Aldaraen, I have some folks to introduce you to!” Raebidus called, sliding off of his horse and calling for the Elf, hands around his mouth.

Gandalf and Radagast followed suit, calling the Prince as if they were already quite familiar with him.

Aldaraen appeared from the shed, expression confused. He had a slight sheen to his skin, and Raebidus knew that they had caught him training the young Elves, no doubt.

He observed the three Wizards critically, then whistled behind his shoulder before continuing his advance. 

Garrik trotted quickly from the shed, as well, wiping his hands in his shirt, which he held in his hands.

“Who is this?” Aldaraen stopped before Raebidus, though he were staring behind him at the three odd Men, “You’ve never done something like this before.”

“Did you not teach the lad to dress? Was he born in a barn?” Gandalf said dryly, and Aldaraen put his hands on his hips, tilting his head.

“You are loudly spoken, for a stranger, young Man,” he replied coolly, “He dresses as he might when slaving alongside me or training as hard as the eldest of Warriors. He works, and not a complain issues forth from him.”

“He might be a welcome companion in our own travels, then. Every other word that issues forth from Radagast is “Please, can we stop?”” Gandalf smiled at him, seeming to completely miss the reprimand, “But I, personally, find it simpler to communicate when all are fully dressed.”

Saruman and Radagast nodded their agreement.

Garrik looked surprised, but he pulled his shirt over his head, anyway.

“Very good. You will not burn to a crisp in the sun that way either, boy,” Gandalf said, then swept off his strange, pointed hat, revealing a mop of mussed blonde hair, and bowed, finishing, “I am Gandalf. We three Wizards have come with grave news for the Prince of Mirkwood, GoldenFlower, DragonScar.”

Aldaraen looked sharply at Raebidus, but the red-haired Man said quickly,

“They already knew of you. I know not how.”

“What is it then?” Aldaraen glanced at Garrik when he fell in beside him as if a Guard, black eyes never leaving the three strange ones before them.

“I am Saruman, and the other is Radagast,” Saruman said quietly, elbowing Gandalf into quiet, “We bring news of Brigands.”

“Brigands?” Aldaraen looked at Raebidus again for only a moment, “Brigands which warred with the Peoples of Mirkwood?”

“Yes. They will be sent here to murder you and your family in the times ahead, be that days, months, years. When? I know not,” Saruman shrugged languidly, “The White Lady sent us after a vision she experienced.”

“Galadriel, wife to Celeborn?” Aldaraen’s worried expression evaporated, “Why would she send hapless fools such as you to bring me tidings of death? Why not come herself?”

“She knew not where to find you. Your heart is blackened to her by some strong magic, she says. Not evil, but it surpasses her observance,” Saruman answered, “She worries for you, because she believes you have more to give before the Brigands arrive. We three have been searching for you for many months.”

“We are no hapless fools!” Gandalf exclaimed, offended, “We are Wizards! The Istari!”

“Wizards?” Aldaraen actually laughed, a sweet sound that always caught Raebidus off guard, “Wizards perform spells and—“

“We perform spells. Each in our own fashion,” Saruman said, looking more exasperated than offended.

“I may set your fire-pit ablaze,” Gandalf said, then huffed out a few words, but instead of the nearby fire-pit catching flame, the tree next to it caught fire.

Aldaraen stared at it with half-closed eyes, utterly unimpressed, before saying, “That’s just wonderful. Kill the tree.”

Saruman waved his arm violently and the fire vanished. “The Lady Galadriel says you are hunted. Believe it or not,” he turned back to Aldaraen.

“I believe you are Wizards. Some of you, perhaps, still learning,” Aldaraen cast a glance at Gandalf and Radagast, “And I also believe that I am hunted. I have always been hunted. But my Enemies know not where I am. They shall never discover this place.”

“Lady Galadriel fears that they will discover you. She says that if you love your family and yourself, then you will return to Mirkwood immediately,” Gandalf crossed his arms, although obviously still embarrassed at his malfunctioned spell.

“Have Brigands or Orcs issued forth and she witnessed them less than a week’s ride from here?” Aldaraen asked, sounding as if he didn’t care.

“No, but Galadriel has reason—“

“Then there is no reason to worry. If she is right, then I will know of it, and depart. My family and I were planning on departing in less than a mere decade, as it is,” Aldaraen said, then narrowed his gaze slightly and finished, “I lost faith for the Lady Galadriel many, many years ago. When I thought she would aid me, she stepped away. If something happens that is not to her knowing, or out of the Valar’s wishes, then she should’ve told me to stay in Mirkwood, not leave my decision in the darkness.”

He turned and began walking swiftly back towards his home, Garrik following, but Raebidus, having already heard the tale from the three Wizards himself, hurried after the retreating Elf and fell in beside him.

“Aldaraen, please listen to them. I’ve seen these Brigands before, they nearly murdered my brother over dragon’s eggs. They know where Garrik and I live, and that is not far from here,” he grasped the Prince’s strong arm, successfully stopping him, “I am counselling you, in all my youth, to go to Mirkwood. I have heard those three Wizards speak much, and I do not believe that they are all bluff and blunder, odd clothing or not. I wish to travel with you for my own safety, if you will have me.”

“Why did you bring them here? They could be emissaries of Sauron, himself,” Aldaraen muttered. His gaze was not angry, but it was searching Raebidus’ own, “What did they offer you?”

Raebidus was silent for a moment, then he said, “Will you not leave?”

“I will, but when we are quite ready. Galadriel sees many things. Things which change with the course of time, things which might not even come to pass,” Aldaraen nodded once, “There is no way our Enemy knows where I live. He was unaware, even, of my departure.”

“At least discuss the matter with them inside. They have much to say,” Raebidus pressed.

“Only because I know your character and that you are quite wise for your years will I hold counsel with them,” Aldaraen replied at last, looking past the Man at the three Wizards, “But they will return to your own home, Raebidus, Son of Raebdon. I do not take kindly to folk telling me what to do, or threatening me with death, from an Enemy or not.”

“I know not much of the Elven folk, but for your family, Aldaraen,” Raebidus said, “But I feel that you should heed Galadriel’s advice. A Prince, far from the protection of his own People in Mirkwood, makes an irresistible target, indeed.”

“No need to tell me of that,” Aldaraen said lightly, beginning to walk towards the house again, “And if a pack of Brigands show their faces here… I’ll murder them all.”

Raebidus stopped and stared after Aldaraen retreating into his home, then turned and looked into his brother’s black eyes. 

They seemed cold, even though there was nothing unemotional or different about them, and, for a moment, Raebidus did not know him.

“I’m sorry he seems upset, Rae’,” Garrik said softly, and Raebidus blinked a few times, forcing himself to recognize his own brother, “He is frightened for his family.”

“So he denies that there is danger?”

“No, just danger that he cannot fend away,” Garrik responded, then clapped his brother on the back, “Bring those three inside. I have an interest in them, for they seem full of good tales.”

“Oh, they are. Good, bad, and most incredibly stupid, sometimes,” Raebidus laughed, “I believe you will find them enjoyable.”

~~~


	9. Heirs~Chapter 8

~ 2 years later…

Yaeran was most surprised at the outcome of the young Avari Elflings in the Mirkwood Palace. They were imprisoned for less than a few months, but, after many hearings, it was insisted that they be let free to be cared for, because of their young age. They would then be escorted to the Western borders of Mirkwood by the end of their first year. The time had come and gone long ago, and not a word of banning the Elflings had been spoken.   
Mirkwood, for the most part, was officially attached to and accepting the young Avari Elflings into its life.

Accepting them, at least, silently.

Even Thranduil had grown warm towards them after a few months. Going outside more often and sleeping better, under Yaeran and Eardaneth’s forcing hand, seemed to do him good, for he smiled much more often, even.

Eardaneth spent most of his time as foster-parent to Ruvven and Nadhir, though he didn’t seem to mind. They were quiet and well-behaved, and even Yaeran enjoyed being about them.

Eardaneth took up the job of weapons-crafter while retraining his left arm for sword use, but he remained in the hobby even after he had made himself more deadly with a weapon left-handed than he ever had been right-handed. Nadhir spent much time with him beside the forge, fascinated with how the art worked.

Wharyn had taken a strong liking to Endel and had made the young She-Elf her assistant, also helping to raise Ruvven, herself. 

Thranduil truly seemed indifferent to them after the first year had passed, and Yaeran hoped it would last.

Cardhin, alone, was not joyous of heart. He was quiet and sullen, his sharp eyes always watching, and Yaeran found that he was still untrusted, even in his own heart. There was something different about him from his siblings, but Yaeran wouldn’t ever tell Thranduil that he had been correct in his first, swift judgement of the Avari Elfling.

Yaeran kept close watch on Cardhin, on all that he did. 

The young Elf never did anything questionable, conforming to every rule or law placed over them, but Yaeran still wasn’t fully at ease with him. 

He held a dark brooding in his heart, as if unable to decide upon something that troubled him greatly, and Yaeran tried to monitor all of his business.

There were moments when Cardhin slipped his mind, but they were few. 

And, Yaeran knew, Cardhin was aware of Yaeran watching him, and he seemed to hate him quietly for it.

Yaeran carried a weapon with him always now. Always.

~~~

“Fresh bedding, my lord and lady,” Endel knocked with her elbow on the King and Queen’s chamber door, “May I come in?”

Wharyn opened the door and smiled at her, exclaiming, “Why, that was very fast, young Endel! You were barely gone five minutes!”

“I met one of the laundry She-Elves already coming up the stairs,” Endel stepped inside, closely followed by Cardhin, who carried the rest of the clean clothes, “I see you already made your bed.”

“Yes, I just used the extra in the drawer. You may put those in there, as well,” Wharyn said, and offered to take the clothes from Cardhin, but he refused.

“Spring cleaning is a pain?” Cardhin said instead as he opened drawers and began placing folded clothing into their correct places, “Even for the King and Queen?”

“Aha, yes,” Thranduil’s voice came from the study, where he was sifting through old documents, eyes narrowed, “You wouldn’t believe how much clutter a King can pick up in a year. Wharyn, I’m going to get rid of my old schooling papers. I have no need of them anymore and they just sit, taking up space and slowly growing dry. Don’t tell Yaeran.”

“Those are memories,” Wharyn left the young Avari and stood beside her husband, looking down at the papers he displayed, “Legolas used to laugh when he would read your essays.”

“His were worse,” Thranduil muttered, but he cut a smile at Wharyn.

The sounds of the young Elves in the main chamber ceased suddenly, the silence almost odd, and Thranduil looked up, calling, “Did you finish?”

“Yes,” Endel responded, though she didn’t seem quite focused in her response.

Thranduil glanced at Wharyn, then walked slowly to the doorway and stood quietly, observing the two slender Avari, their backs towards him where they stood together at the drawers.

“Endel, Cardhin..?” he said quietly, and they turned with a start, Endel dropping an old piece of paper back into the drawer guiltily.

“What was that?” Thranduil felt an inkling of suspicion towards them and he began to walk towards the drawer, but Endel said quickly,

“It is a drawing I have never seen before, my lord Thranduil. Of a young Elf under a tree.”

Thranduil looked at her, then peered into the drawer and laughed, feeling inwardly relieved.

“Oh, yes. That is Aldaraen,” he said dismissively, picking up the parchment himself, “His wife drew this of him before they were wed. They were best friends, you see. Went all about the Forests together on scouts…some fake, and some real.” He smiled, gazing down at the drawing.

“He is handsome, though he doesn’t look very… Princely,” Endel said quietly, standing closely at Thranduil’s side to see the picture again, “He seems so young.” 

“He was young,” Thranduil touched it gently with a finger, “He is quite different now, I’m afraid.”

Endel jumped when she brushed against him and she returned next to her brother quickly, saying, “We’re sorry for prying. I enjoy well drawn pictures, as such, and couldn’t help admiring it.”

Thranduil nodded, thinking nothing of it.

“He departed for the Iron Hills, or near there. He preferred to live in the small, yet quaint town of Gwemyr, over Greenwood, I’m told. A town of Men. But he says it is beautiful and wishes I would visit. I cannot, of course,” he said absently and shrugged, though he seemed slightly upset now, “That was the last I have heard from him. The road there is rough, and I am sure that the ability for him to get a message here is very difficult, indeed.”

Cardhin was staring at him strangely, and Thranduil had to take a double-look, never before having seen the expression on his young face.

The Avari changed immediately and bowed, saying, “I will go check on my younger brother, my lord. Thank you for telling us a little of your brother. He has always been an interest of ours, as he is so…rarely spoken on.”

Thranduil was silent for a moment, then he responded carefully, “I didn’t know he was an interest. I could tell you more…”

“That is quite alright. I forgot I told Nadhir that I would play with him today,” Cardhin bowed again before turning and trotting from the room, shutting the door behind him.

Endel was also silent, staring after her brother with wide, worried eyes.

“Is something the matter, BrightRaven?” the King asked her, and she turned slowly to look at him.

There was a long, odd silence, and the Avari She-Elf almost gazed at him sadly, as if he had just said something horrible.

“Endel..?” he reached a hand towards her, but she backed away, saying,

“I’m sorry. I was just thinking how horrible it must be for you to miss your brother so. If one of my own departed, I would be heart-broken.”

Thranduil turned and looked at Wharyn, who was standing in the entrance to the study, seeming concerned herself of the Avari’s behavior.

“Melamin, come here and let me braid your hair,” Wharyn smiled at her and beckoned, “I’ve been wanting to try something new, and I think it would be easier for me to do it to myself after testing it on you, first.”

Endel laughed and complied, though she cast a last, almost disappointed glance upon Thranduil as she passed him.

~~~

~ A few days later…

Yaeran rested against the wall of the Stable Courtyard, watching the stable-hands washing and grooming the many, many horses, laughing to one another.

Wharyn loved the animals just about as much as her husband, and they enjoyed helping in this manner, dressing in old clothes and getting wet, scrubbing down the mounts. 

It was good to see them out of the attire necessary for the monarchs of Mirkwood, for Yaeran knew that they grew very tired of it.

Eardaneth’s sons and Minerva had stayed very close after Alinor and Haldir had departed Mirkwood, and they had pulled Endel and her brothers in as close friends, as well. They seemed fascinated with the Avari at first, then quickly grew to treat them as any other young Elf or She-Elf. They hadn’t particularly enjoyed treating them as prisoners, even though they had done a good job.

Darnuigar and Minerva were washing a steed together, while Earathran was laughing with Endel, splashing her playfully with the cold water. 

They seemed to spend much time together, Yaeran noted carefully, narrowing his eyes slightly. Earathran had been tasked with keeping close watch over Endel at the onset, yes, but they had quickly grown on each other, Earathran even gentling his usually ferocious attitude. There was no room for a romance to blossom between a Silvan and Avari Elf. It was forbidden.

Nadhir trotted past him, then, holding something in a towel, heading towards the King and Queen, who were dressed in dark brown and green tunics.

It reminded Yaeran of when the King had been a Prince, and it made him smile.

Nadhir stopped beside Thranduil, only the height of his hip. He opened his mouth to call to him, but Wharyn elbowed Thranduil after he had said something quietly to her, and soapy water spilt from the bucket the King had been holding, splashing the Elfling successfully.

“Nadhir!” he exclaimed with a laugh, and thrust the bucket into his wife’s arms with a smirk, letting it splash her, before wiping the soap from Nadhir’s head, “I’m sorry, lad, I didn’t see you!”

“Sure,” Legolas called from a few feet away, bathing his own horse, “He used to splash me all the time just to make me leave him and Mum alone.” He winked at his father, who shook his head at him with a smile.

“I really am sorry,” Thranduil repeated, then finished, “What do you need, little one?”

“I made something for you,” the Elfling said proudly, smiling so big that his eyes were nearly shut.

“For me?” Thranduil raised his eyebrows at Eardaneth as the tall Elf entered the courtyard, obviously looking for the Elfling.

“Yes, for you. I was just making it as a surprise, but Lord Eardaneth said I should thank you for not killing us,” Nadhir grew solemn and held up the towel, “Here.”

“That was only a jest!” Eardaneth exclaimed, trotting forward now, eyes wide, “I didn’t know you heard me. I said it to—“

“Do not make jests like that anymore, SeaGaze,” Thranduil said calmly, “They do more harm than good.”

Eardaneth didn’t respond, but he knew the young King was correct.

“I would never lay a hand on you, little one. Elflings are far too precious,” Thranduil said to Nadhir quietly, and Wharyn smiled behind her husband at his words, “You know that I wouldn’t.”

“I’m glad to hear that Lord Eardaneth was merely jesting,” Nadhir seemed relieved, then he jumped slightly, still holding up the towel, “Here!”

Thranduil took it from him, crouching so that he was on the Elfling’s level, and opened the towel to reveal a small, but intricately crafted dagger.

Thranduil stared at it for a moment and Wharyn even gasped quietly in surprise, before he said, “You made this, Nadhir?”

“Yes, with Lord Eardaneth’s instruction.”

“He did it all. I merely made suggestions,” Eardaneth said, putting a hand proudly on Nadhir’s shoulder, “He is talented.”

“Indeed,” Thranduil turned it over several times in his hand before unsheathing it, holding it to the sun, “This is flawless craftsmanship, young one!”

“It wasn’t too hard. I’ve had experience before with my father. He used to help me make arrows to hunt with,” Nadhir smiled, then leapt forward and hugged Thranduil about the neck briefly, saying, “I’m so pleased that you like it!”

Thranduil was very still for a moment, but he hugged the Elfling in return after only a moment, saying, “It is beautiful.”

“Now I must make something for the Queen,” Nadhir looked up at Wharyn with wide, excited eyes, “Do you fancy jewelry?”

“Of course! Tell me of a She-Elf who does not!” Wharyn laughed, taking the dagger from Thranduil to examine it, “I’m sure I will love anything you make! Why don’t you help us finish washing this horse and then we will go inside together. I have a few jewels I may give you to craft with.”

“Thank you,” Nadhir breathed quietly, looking quite pleased, “It would be my honor.”  
“Not your white jewels. Those are yours, and our inheritance,” Thranduil said quietly, squatting with her to wash the horse’s belly, “They are far too rare and precious. We will find a master jeweler to craft those jewels.”

“Of course not, Thran’,” Wharyn rolled her eyes at him, “Do not be so concerned with the gems.”

Thranduil shrugged, and looked up in surprise when his wife swiped her brush across his arm, soaking him.

“I’m serious,” she gave him a look, and Thranduil shook his head, answering,

“I know you are. I do not worry much about them. But they are yours, and yours alone. I wish to see them made into some precious form, reflecting your beauty and purity. It would be a gift to you.”

“I know you love me, Thran’,” Wharyn laughed at him, but she kissed his wet cheek, “And I love you too. Those jewels are yours, however. They hold your essence, your family’s. I don’t need anything but your love to remain happy.”

“Well, you’ll have it for thousands of years,” Thranduil looked at her with a smile, “So I hope you prayed to the Valar on the matter when you accepted my pledge.”

“I know, and I did,” Wharyn leaned briefly on his shoulder, “There is none other I love more to tease and make laugh.”

“That’s it?” Thranduil dumped clean water over the horse after he had stood.

“Only partly,” Wharyn poked him in the stomach and he bent over slightly with a grunt, “But I do love to tease you. For only I can do that.”

“At least, tease me and get away with it,” Thranduil attempted to poke her in return, but she hopped out of the way.

She leaned forward then and replied, “Not only get away with it, but then, I get a kiss from the King.” She waited until he obliged, and he laughed,

“Everyone knows you run Mirkwood.”

“I just help,” she turned back to the horse before finishing, “Now get back to work. King.”

~~~

~ The next day…

Yaeran slowed his walk down one of the many corridors in the Mirkwood Palace when he recognized Endel’s voice, coming, restrained, from one of the storage rooms near the kitchen.

He had gone down to fetch some herbs for tea, Eardaneth wishing to give some to Ruvven to help him in his sleep.

“This is our home now, Cardhin. They actually show love to us. You cannot do this. Is this really what you—“ she broke off her sentence when Yaeran walked past a window, not knowing it had been there, and he cursed inwardly, knowing they had seen him.

“Lord Yaeran,” Endel walked from the room, holding bread, and her brother followed, looking at him darkly, knowingly, “I apologize, we did not know you were there. Did you need something?”

“No, I was fetching herbs for Ruvven. He is not sleeping well. I believe he has a bellyache, poor babe,” Yaeran took his gaze from Cardhin to look into the gentle black eyes of Endel.

They had been arguing, he could tell. 

“Do you need aid with him? I cannot thank you and your brother enough for your help in caring for him,” Endel seemed very tired, “I just was taking this bread to Eardaneth’s twins and Minerva. We are studying together.”

“Oh, no, I am fine,” Yaeran smiled at her. He honestly liked the She-Elf, “I miss Elflings, especially babies, such as Ruvven, even though he is nearly past the stage. It has been too long since I have been charged with one.”

Endel nodded, then lowered her head and finished, “Very well. It was good to see you, Master Yaeran. Farewell.”

Yaeran bade her the same, and watched her brother walk past him with straight shoulders, not even glancing his direction.

~

Yaeran walked into Eardaneth’s chambers and started water to boiling before walking quietly into his brother’s bedchamber, where he had left him and the crying Elfling.

Eardaneth’s back was to him from where he stood in the darkened room, but for a single candle, and he was rocking gently, singing to Ruvven in a quiet, soft voice.

The Elfling was making only quiet noises now, and Yaeran couldn’t help a small smile, seeing his brother in this manner. He felt it had been only days ago when he had held Eardaneth similarly, being so much older than he when he was born, the auburn-haired Elfling fondly called the ‘Surprise’. 

Eardaneth had grown so swiftly.

It was even more strange knowing that the babe he held so lovingly and close was of Avari blood.

Yaeran had always thought his brother had a beautiful, gentle voice, so he stood quietly, listening to him sing a lullaby, until Eardaneth turned and saw him, growing quiet.

“I haven’t heard your voice so in many, many years,” Yaeran blinked at him, “Why you do not share such beauty is unknown to me.”

“I sang to my sons,” Eardaneth smiled, though he blushed, “They probably do not remember. They used to sing with me. But I am too shy.”

“You? Shy?” Yaeran laughed, and watched as Eardaneth brought Ruvven to his face so he could kiss his forehead.

“I love him, Yaeran,” Eardaneth said quietly, never taking his sapphire gaze from the babe’s face, “He is no longer Avari to me. How could I have hated the Dark Elves so blindly?”

“Be careful who you give your love to,” Yaeran responded gently, then he turned to go make tea, hearing the water begin to boil over, “You’d best mention that, also, to your sons.”

~~~

Cardhin departed from Endel shortly after Yaeran’s interruption of their argument, and she was glad. He intimidated her, sometimes.

She looked down at the bread she carried and had just begun humming to herself, relishing in the warm, waning sunshine of the Gardens, when a hand grasped her arm roughly and yanked her behind a tree. 

She yelped in surprise, but smiled in relief when she saw it was only Earathran, who cornered her against the tree, grinning mischievously at her.

“Is that for me?” he asked, tilting his head, eyes bright.

“No, silly, it’s for the others, as well,” Endel could feel herself beginning to blush. 

“I think it’s for you and I, for you only brought two,” he leaned closer to her, and took the bread easily from her hands, for she was already lost in his sapphire gaze.

“Give that back,” she exclaimed with a laugh when she realized what he had done, and he pranced away proudly, waving his prize at her.

“Only for a kiss, milady,” he continued backing away with every step towards him that she took, “It is only fair.”

“No, it’s not. Lord Thranduil said—“ Endel began, beginning to feel upset, but Earathran interrupted her, 

“Thranduil. He said that years ago. He has grown very fond of you Avari, as have I,” he allowed her to get close again, but he held the bread out of reach, “He sees the folly in our Races’ division. I hope. There is nothing so different between the Avari and the Silvan than the Sindarin and the Silvan.”

“There’s more than that, and you know it,” Endel looked at him crossly, “Now give me that bread.”

“You know you like me, and I like you,” Earathran said sarcastically, but Endel knew he felt more than that. 

He had already told her, but she had left his presence quickly, feeling guilty towards the law Thranduil had decreed - That no pledge of love be made to any of the Avari.  
Yaeran had actually suggested it.

“Earathran JayGaze, would you defy your King?” she said, although somewhat uncertainly. 

“You love me, but you don’t know it,” Earathran looked at her in mock-sorrow, “Either that, or you just refuse to admit it.”

“Why do you torment me so? How can you sport this so lightly?” Endel backed away from him now, “You are a Warrior of the King, a member of his Guard. How could you so openly defy him? He trusts you.”

“We don’t have to stay in Mirkwood. Others have left. There are plenty of Elven Realms that would accept us happily…” Earathran moved close to her again and pressed the bread back into her hands, “But I’m sorry. I’ll give you more time. We discussed—“

“We discussed foolishness. I do not wish to have the hate of the King Thranduil and the disappointment of the Queen Wharyn upon my shoulders!”

“If we departed, then you would not have to worry about either,” Earathran said, “I’ve always wished to adventure beyond this Realm. It has changed. It has grown dark and dangerous.”

“I do not wish to think of this right now,” Endel began to back away, but Earathran held her hand and pulled her back, saying,

“Endel. It is Spring. It is ideal to leave at this time. I swear to the Valar that you will not regret it. I believe it would actually be better for us both to escape from behind these walls, to see the open pastures, or the sunset across the ocean…”

“The Valar disfavored my People for not following them, and we were forever shunned,” Endel said quietly, “I do not think that they would wish for us to be together, Earathran. It is not right.”

“Let me show you, then, that there is love for the Avari, and that by being irritated with the Avari, and calling them the Unfavored and Unwilling, the Valar did not mean for our Kind to be entirely split. They do not hate you. I believe the issue has been blown out of proportion. Let me show you, Endel,” Earathran was suddenly very close.

When his nose touched her own, Endel shocked herself by actually slapping the Mirkwood Warrior squarely on the cheek.

He pressed his lips together and pursed them, looking at her almost as if he were about to burst into laughter, but his eyes shone from the sting of it.

She had never seen the expression before.

She sucked in her breath in irritation, feeling hot and more than just a little frightened, and stormed away in search of the sensible Darnuigar and Minerva, holding the bread close.

Love for the Silvan Elf would ruin her, just when things were beginning to be joyful for her.

But she couldn’t be alone for her entire life, could she? She would never return from where she had come from before being found by the Silvan Elves. Things had changed for her.

A simple crush had grown far too quickly for her into something else, but she knew that to accept Earathran’s pledge would be to step far over carefully set boundaries that none spoke of.

She felt a love for Thranduil and his wife, as well, and she didn’t want to see that dissolve into hate and disappointment. Nor did she want to see Earathran shunned by his father and brother, or Yaeran’s own disgust…

Her thoughts began swimming out of control again, as they always did, and she shook her head.

This was why she never thought on it anymore.

And it was also why it frightened her so much.

~~~

~ A few weeks later…

“My lady Wharyn, there you are,” Nadhir sounded out of breath when he came to a breathless halt behind her, and the Queen turned around from her packing in surprise, blue eyes questioning.

“Little Nadhir, you were to be resting with Eardaneth! You wrestled him very hard,” Wharyn laughed at the thought, “Why are you here?”

“Eardaneth fell asleep swifter than I,” Nadhir said, smiling mischievously, “I saw King Thranduil go past in his Forest clothes and knew that you were leaving, for I remembered seeing you in breeches!”

“You are quite wise,” Wharyn said, bowing to him slightly, “We are indeed departing, but only for a few nights. A scout will be made about most of the northern borders and Thran’ convinced me to accompany them.”

“I wanted to give you the necklace I finished before you left,” Nadhir dug in his tunic pocket and pulled out a red necklace, “I copied the fashion of King Thranduil’s mark with the silver at the top.” He handed his gift to her. 

The ruby seemed to glow in the afternoon sun and Wharyn stared at it in helpless awe before saying, “This is stunning, Nadhir. I name you to be called Nadhir FairHand, for you are a true artist.”

“Oh, thank you, my lady! Before Eardaneth misses me, will you put it on, please? I’d like to see it,” Nadhir was beaming.

“What is that?” Thranduil trotted down the stairs behind them into the stable yard, throwing saddlebags across his horse’s rump, “It is beautiful.”

“Nadhir crafted it for me,” Wharyn answered, standing still when her husband turned to help her clasp it about her neck, “Is he not amazingly skilled with his small hands?”

“Yes,” Thranduil looked down at the Elfling with a smile after examining the pendant closely, “Your future shall surely be fair.”

“Do you take your dagger with you, my lord, for use against the horrible, giant spiders?” the Elfling asked with wide eyes.

“Yes, and look,” Thranduil lifted the Elfling onto the horse’s back and pointed to the steed’s shoulder, “It is sheathed there, so that I might lean down and take it up for battle when the time arises.”

Nadhir was silent, with an almost dreamy expression, until he said wistfully, “When I am old enough, perhaps I might be your personal Guard, and protect my lord and lady from danger. Wear the mark of Greenwood upon my chest.”

“Perhaps,” Thranduil said slowly, “Face those awful giant spiders for me…”

Nadhir looked at him with wide, shining eyes and Wharyn smiled, laughing herself, when her husband grasped the Elfling playfully and pulled him from the horse’s back, mussing his black hair.

She had not seen him play with an Elfling in so long, but the scene touched her heart.

“Be off to Eardaneth. He will be cross with you when he awakes and you are not there. Believe me,” Thranduil pushed the Elfling along in the back gently, “Go on!”

“Stay safe, my lord and lady!” Nadhir bowed to them and dashed away, running lightly up the stairs.

~~~

~ Nightfall of the same day…

Thranduil stood alone and quiet on a grassy cliff, staring out at the horizon as the full moon rose, very bright, and very silver. He didn’t take his blue eyes from the sight even when he heard someone approaching from behind. He knew the light step as Wharyn’s.

“It is a wondrous sight, is it not?” she stood beside him and took his hand, “Here we are at one of the rarest places in our Realm to see the horizon and to watch the sun depart and the moon arrive.”

“But for the mountains, which we rarely venture to,” Thranduil said quietly, blinking slowly.

“You are thinking of your brother?” Wharyn smiled up at him, and he glanced at her with a small smile, replying softly,

“Yes, I am. The one time he wrote to me, he said that I would not believe the starlight upon the open plains, something I have never seen, Melamin. He said it took his breath away from the beauty of it,” Thranduil’s eyes were somewhat wide as he continued to gaze at the moon, “I have a desire to adventure beyond these covering trees, but for my duty, I may not.”

“You’ll go beyond someday, do not worry. There are so many years ahead,” Wharyn moved his arm about her and she hugged him, “It is sweet hearing the words you exchange with the Elfling, Nadhir. I…I miss it, Thran’. Our Legolas grew far too quickly.”

“He did, but it was worth every moment of it,” Thranduil scanned the stars once before adding, “Nadhir has a pure heart. The light of the Valar is in him.”

He blinked in surprise when Wharyn stood on her tiptoes to kiss him gently under the ear, hands taking either side of his head to pull him towards her.

He waited until she was finished before laughing softly, “What, in the name of the Valar, are you doing?”

She kissed him again before answering at last, “I want another child.”

“This is sudden.”

“I’ve prayed to the Valar of it. I am sad that we never had a second Elfling and that Legolas was never given a sibling,” Wharyn seemed very emotional over the issue, “I want another child.”

“Wharyn, we both wanted a child, but the Valar withheld the blessing,” Thranduil said gently.

“They will give us a child, Thranduil,” Wharyn smiled at him, undaunted, “When I prayed, I felt it in my heart.”

Thranduil gazed at her wordlessly, then grinned and laughed quietly, “You never cease to surprise me, WindBorn. You are quite sure in your heart?”

“This is what I want, and I will get it,” Wharyn laughed back at him, “I do not care of anything else. Not our duties, not what others will say.”

“You are sure?” Thranduil asked one last time, taking her arms, “During these times of possible strife and--?”

“I am sure,” Wharyn kissed him again, ending his question, “I want another child.”

~~~

A few days later…

Earathran looked up from his writing when Endel’s head peered into the room slowly, black eyes concerned.

Her slap had been painful, both physically and emotionally, but he understood her predicament, so he did not mention it. She had stayed away, though, for the last few days, not even glancing at him, so he was curious as to what she would say.

“JayGaze,” she said softly, and, not for the first time, Earathran enjoyed the poetically beautiful twist to their strange love situation, he being named for the jay, she for the raven.

“BrightRaven,” he said back to her, and she entered, walking swiftly to sit beside him at a desk.

“I…I came to apologize, for I struck you out of fright alone, not spite,” she looked down, “Please forgive me.”

“Of course! I never held anger against you,” he assured her, although his heart was relieved.

“Are you cross with me?” she asked quietly, her own expression relieved, and Earathran smiled.

“No. Of course not,” he said, “But maybe a little. If you kissed me, I’m sure it would all go away, as I have said so often in the past.”

“Then you shall be burning for years,” she smiled at him, “Give me a few years yet to decide.”

“Well, if you truly loved me, then it would be a no-brainer.”

Endel looked at him strangely for the odd word, then she answered, “It is difficult, for I love many things here, Earathran. I am not yet ready to cast it aside. If there is a way to bring this about justly, then I will wait, and think on the matter.”

“Do not keep me waiting long, please,” Earathran pressed his lips together, feeling disappointment when she began walking away, “I wish to find an open place to dwell very soon. Eregion, perhaps? I have family there, and they do not share such dislike for the Avari as many do here. I hear the beauty of the Realm is stunning.”

“Have patience, young Elf,” Endel paused to look at him, “You should also be taking into consideration your parents and brother.”

“I have,” Earathran said, “I wait upon you alone, Endel.”

She bowed her head in acknowledgment, then departed, leaving Earathran irritated that he still had somehow failed to wheedle a kiss from her.

~~~

Cardhin waited for the precise moment when the Guard about the smaller Stable gate collapsed, unconscious, before dashing out into the Forest for the first time in years.

It was odd, and almost frightening, for him, especially since it was well past the highest time of the moon.

“Your sister and brothers have fallen,” the dark voice snarled before Cardhin even saw him in the shadows, “It is you alone who shall be rewarded.”

Maellang stepped forward, murmuring another spell, blowing a dark, purple shadow across Cardhin.

“The Guard will wake soon. You used your only spell I taught you to summon me. This had best be worth my time,” Maellang played with his dagger hilt while Cardhin reached into a pouch at his belt.

“Here,” he handed a small rip of parchment that he had scrawled upon, “The King had said that he was—“

“I don’t care; I can read it myself later. Get back behind those walls,” Maellang hissed, snatching the paper violently, but he calmed himself and a smile slid across his face before he finished, “You have done well. You will be rewarded upon your return to us.”

“When will that be?” Cardhin asked, somewhat hopefully.

“When your full purpose here is completed. Any sooner than that, and I shall slit your throat,” Maellang grinned at him again before backing away, “Best get back, Cardhin, Friend of Mirkwood. You will be rewarded even higher for disposing of those traitors you claim for siblings.”

The words made Cardhin feel sour and he turned angrily, trotting back towards the Stable Gate. He had expected far more than what had just passed, and the thought of what was still yet to come troubled him greatly, but he brushed it away.

He would deal with that later, as the timing was still in the years ahead.

The Master would aid him.

~~~


	10. Heirs~Chapter 9

~ Many years later…

“Thank you for the supper, Numonex! It was lovely,” Alinor hugged her friend farewell and added, “You have so much white in your hair, I cannot believe it.”

“I know,” Numonex laughed, “And you look as if you’ve just reached adulthood.”

“Well…” Alinor smiled and shrugged, wrapping herself tightly in her cloak before following her father outside Numonex’s home.

“Miss Faerrrrrlin,” Numonex caught the elder She-Elf when she walked past him, looping her scarf about her neck and tying it for her, “You nearly forgot it again.”

“Thank you, Numonex,” Faerlin leaned forward to kiss his cheek, “Happy Yuletide.”

“This is your last Yule Festival to celebrate with us here, is it not?” Numonex’s wife held the She-Elf’s hand gently, “We shall miss you sorely.”

“Yes. You will come sup with us once more before we depart in the month ahead,” Faerlin smiled at her, “The home will be your family’s.”

“We cannot thank you enough,” Numonex said, “All of Gwemyr shall miss you. I believe they have quite forgotten that you are Elven. All the help you have brought the families and the town will not quickly fade from memory.”

“We have been here for many years. Our son was raised here,” Faerlin said, smiling sadly, “I will miss this place, yes, but I long for my home and family.”

“And they will be joyous to receive you back unto them, I am sure,” Numonex bowed to her, “Have a safe journey back to your home in the forest, my lady.”

Faerlin stepped out into the snow and waved at the Men when they stood in the doorway to see them off.

Aldaraen rode past and lifted her effortlessly before him, beckoning to Alinor and Aldariil to follow, Garrik riding with the younger Elf.

“The Yule celebration is tomorrow in Gwemyr, Melamin, and then the next day is Yule,” Faerlin leaned back and said quietly in Aldaraen’s ear.

“Yes. Is there something the matter?” he looked at her.

“No, but I need to speak to you of something important tonight that I believe we have both been thinking on. It has been bothering me,” she answered, then finished with a small smile, “And I see it in your eyes in certain moments, that you feel the same as I.”

~~~

“But why? It is Yuletide! You’ve never sent us to our rooms before this early!” Garrik laughed, tilting his head when Aldaraen ordered the three younger Elves to their respective chambers, “What has come over you?” He said it teasingly.

Aldaraen couldn’t help a laugh of his own at the three’s indignant, surprised expressions, and he answered, “Because, lad, my wife and I have something of the highest privacy to discuss. We do not need young, pointed ears listening in!” 

He pushed the grown, young Elf firmly in the chest, but Garrik leaned against him with a smile, not moving an inch. “You cause me to feel suspicion,” he said.

“Go to your room, Garrik!” Aldaraen laughed, and turned on his heel, walking back towards the fireplace where Faerlin sat, watching the proceedings in humor, “Amin mela lle, hini. Quel kaima.” He knew Garrik would obey him, without another thought.

“Quen kaima,” Garrik extended his hand from his heart before departing, herding Aldariil in front of him, who still seemed indignant.

“Begin, Melamin,” Aldaraen nodded to his wife when he had sat cross-legged before her, waiting.

“We depart in the coming month for Mirkwood,” she stated.

“I know,” Aldaraen laughed, “We’ve been discussing this very much. How much wine did you drink over supper?”

“Peace. I am merely pondering how I might say this. It is no jest,” Faerlin waved a hand at him and Aldaraen grew quiet, waiting until she continued.

“I…I know that Raebidus loves his brother, but he is only a Man. His life will end shortly, and then Garrik will be alone here,” Faerlin seemed slightly embarrassed, and she lowered her gaze, pressing her hands together, “I worry for Garrik, Aldaraen. What will become of him when we depart and Raebidus passes away into spirit. He will be alone among this town of Men. He is shy, kind-hearted, and, I’m afraid, I begin fearing the worst for him as I think on it.”

Aldaraen felt no humor any longer, having known this discussion would be made eventually, for he felt the same as his wife concerning the young Elf they had essentially adopted and raised as their own.

“I worry for him too. Each time I think on it, I grow weary of concern. The reason for his youth and tenderness was one of the reasons we remained here a few more years, until he grew and became independent,” he smiled at her sideways, “To think I once hated all and everything to do with the Avari.”

“I am relieved that you feel this way, as well, for I was unsure,” Faerlin said softly, looking past his shoulder towards the Elfling’s chambers, but all was quiet, “This brings me to what I was going to ask.”

“I believe I know what it is, for I was going to ask you the same thing,” Aldaraen was still smiling gently.

“My heart will be broken when we leave him behind, for I have grown to love him as a son, Melamin,” Faerlin smiled sadly, “My love for him is far too great to leave him behind, as if he were the brother of some other, which, in fact, he is. I know I cannot leave him, never to see his sweet face again, unless I am to suffer a degree of grief in my heart until we depart from these lands.”

“He loathes the thought of us departing, as well. I can see it in his eyes, although he attempts to hide it from us,” Aldaraen was nodding.

“Aldaraen, I wish to take him with us,” Faerlin looked at her husband, emerald eyes wide, “I wish to bring him with us to Mirkwood. Even if we must force our People to accept him. I feel it in my heart that it will not be so difficult. Our People are wiser than to believe all Avari are corrupted and evil.”

“I agree, but on one condition,” Aldaraen said, and Faerlin looked at him worriedly, but he finished quickly, “I wish to fully take him under us as a son. I wish to name him as such.”

Faerlin stared at him for a moment, then she grinned and leapt forward, throwing her arms about his neck.

“Yes, Aldaraen! I have prayed you might feel love for him as I do, and the Valar have answered true!” she exclaimed, then seemed to remember the young Elves in their chambers, and she lowered her voice, staring her husband straight in the eye, “Now it is my turn to ask. Did you have too much wine over supper?”

“I’m afraid not,” Aldaraen laughed, “We will discuss this further, no? Of adopting him? We must tell Raebidus.”

“Would Raebidus come with us, too?” Faerlin asked, “I am fond of him, as well, and would not wish to separate him from his brother.”

“We will ask him,” Aldaraen nodded, “He comes tomorrow with those three Wizards. I cannot believe that they teach that Man, Garrik, and our two Elflings a little of magic, just for their amusement. They are quite odd.”

“They are kind, in their own way, and will not learn them anything too harmful,” Faerlin laughed, “Be kind to them, for I feel they have a great future ahead of them.”

“I’ll return shortly,” Aldaraen stood and stretched, “I’ll go check on our Elflings and then we may discuss this further.”

“All three of them,” Faerlin smiled happily.

Aldaraen paused, hand on the doorframe, then turned and said quietly, “Yes. All three of them.”

~~~

~ The next day …

“Menelaudh, happy Yuletide!” Garrik dashed into the cavern with Alinor and Aldariil on his heels, dancing to a halt, “Menelaudh, where are you? We have a gift for you!”

There was a great ‘whooshing’ noise from above them and Menelaudh landed heavily before them a moment later, grown very large indeed.

“Happy Yuletide!” she exclaimed, voice nearly mature, “You made it today! I was afraid you might not be able to get away!” 

“We had to leave early this morning for Raebidus and his friends will be arriving later this evening to attend a celebration in Gwemyr with us,” Alinor said, pulling her cloak closer about her shoulders, “We wanted to be sure that we could see you today, as well.”

Menelaudh shook her head happily and lowered it so each one of the Elves could hug her muzzle in turn.

“We cannot stay long, I’m afraid, so allow us to give you your gift immediately,” Garrik pulled something from his satchel, “We made it large for you to continue growing into, We all three worked on it. I think it turned out alright. Lower your head.”

Menelaudh looked at him questioningly, but she obliged, dipping her large head towards him. 

Garrik stretched forward and managed to slip a slender chain necklace about the dragon’s neck, an intricately crafted green jewel dangling from the delicate loop.

“You made this for me?” Menelaudh exclaimed in pleasure, sitting back on her haunches to gaze down at the dragon-sized necklace, “It is beautiful, and my first thing of value and precious stone!” 

“We thought you might enjoy it,” Garrik smiled, pleased, “You may wear it wherever you may go. It is the leaf of Greenwood.”

“It shows that we are together, no?” Menelaudh wrapped her long neck about them in a strange, gentle embrace, “Thank you so much. It is my most prized possession, and ever shall be.”

“I’m sure you will find other shining things in your time, however, we wished to give you your first. So that you might remember us when we depart,” Alinor’s gaze was sad, although she was smiling, “We will miss you, Men’. Perhaps, in the years ahead, we might discover a way to visit you.”

“Perhaps,” Menelaudh sat back proudly, displaying the green gem against her black scales happily, “I will wear this jewel always, and remember the love and thought that my three Elven companions placed into it.”

“That is what we hoped for,” Aldariil hugged one of her forelegs, “I do not wish to leave you. I was frightened of you at first, but now, you are my best friend!”

“As are you, little one,” Menelaudh made her contented, rumbling sound, closing her eyes, “You should run along now, then, if you need be back for a celebration.”

“Yes, it is in Gwemyr. A festival of sorts. We enjoy the music and dancing, mostly, and will bid our friends farewell,” Alinor said, glancing out the cave entrance towards the sun, “It becomes lively after nightfall.”

“Get along, then,” Menelaudh motioned to them with a foot, “I will await your next visit!”

“Amin mela lle, Mellon,” Aldariil said, then turned to follow the two elder Elves from the cave.

“My love goes with you, as well, little Aldariil,” Menelaudh said happily, then leapt into the air and flapped back up to her ledge. 

She settled down into a crouch, folding her great wings about her, and began pondering very hard of a dragon-name to give her three Elven friends before they departed for strange lands.

It would be their gift for Yule, and she wanted to make sure that they loved their gift as much as she did her own.

Something to remember her by.

~~~

Alinor had barely stepped into the Inn at the center of Gwemyr, decorated beautifully for Yule, when Gandalf’s voice exclaimed, 

“Happy Yule, Elflings!” and Radagast grasped her in a happy hug, moving to Garrik and Aldariil after, handing each of them a sprig of traditional holly.

“Happy Yuletide, Wizards, and Raebidus! We are glad to see you,” Alinor embraced Garrik’s brother, as well, tucking her sprig jokingly behind his ear, not wishing to carry it. She noticed that his expression was troubled, or he seemed to be thinking very hard on some matter, “Are you well, Elf-Friend?”

“Yes. Happy Yuletide, my fair Friend,” he smiled at her and kissed her cheek, taking the sprig from his head and putting it securely in her silvery hair. He looked past her at his brother, who was watching in fascination as Gandalf amused him with small flurries of snow bursting into life from his palm. “I am discussing something of great surprise with your parents.”

Aldaraen and Faerlin were sharing a table with the Wizards and Raebidus it seemed. The quaint Inn was brimming with People, loud conversation and music, perfectly regular for this time of year.

“Ada, what are you speaking of?” she leaned between either of her parents and kissed both their cheeks.

“Actually, Melamin, it would be best if you take Garrik and Aldariil to walk the town and enjoy yourselves,” Aldaraen looked up at her and smiled, “Please. We must discuss this privately with Raebidus. You will hear of it by tomorrow, I promise.”

“Oh,” Alinor was immediately curious, but she made her way back towards Garrik and Aldariil obediently.

“Leaving so soon into the snow?” Radagast smiled at her, “It is quite cold out there.”

“Yes, that is why our cheeks and noses are so rosy,” Alinor smiled, patting his shoulder, “We will go see the sights now before supper time arrives. Would you accompany us?”

“I will remain here,” Saruman said quickly, but Gandalf and Radagast shrugged, responding together, 

“Alright.”

~

“Hold your hand still, boy,” Gandalf muttered, standing beside Garrik as if teaching him archery, running his hand down the Elf’s strong arm to straighten it, “Bring about the spell, then create the art of it with your hand and mind.”

Garrik whispered something and motioned with his hand. A great gust of wind blew the snow before them into a mad swirl, and Gandalf laughed,

“That’s the basics, yes, but you must work on your control!”

Alinor turned away from the sight and joined Radagast and her younger brother beside a snow covered wall, where the youngest Wizard was explaining something about a bluebird perched on his wrist to the young Elf.

They were resting quietly after exploring the town and enjoying the happy music, even dancing a few times, to the people’s delight, and Alinor was now waiting for the clearance to join her family at the table in the Inn.

She was very curious of what they discussed.

Garrik tried the spell Gandalf was learning him again, and, this time, he got the attention of a group of young boys idling in the courtyard, playing with stones.

“Oi, are you a Magician or what?” one of them asked, prodding Gandalf in the arm once they had approached, and Alinor began watching in interest.

“I…guess. It is my business. Now beat it. I’m busy with this lad, here,” Gandalf shooed them away with his staff, but they looked at him brightly, asking,

“You are truly a Magician?”

Gandalf sighed loudly, dramatically, and replied, “I prefer the use of Wizard.”

“Entertain us, then, won’t you?” they smiled at him charmingly, “We’ve heard of Magicians creating marvelous things for sight and amusement.”

“Amusement? How about a good smack over the head with this staff for amusement?” Gandalf began, but one of the boys interrupted him, saying,

“Fireworks, perhaps, I believe they were called?”

Gandalf paused, then glanced at Garrik, who smiled flatly at him.

“I actually enjoy fireworks, yes. Although I am still learning. Sometimes they go astray,” Gandalf tried to look modest, “They really aren’t too impressive…”

“Oh, no, please! Show us!” the boys exclaimed excitedly.

“Yes, Gandalf, they are quite beautiful!” Radagast encouraged him, and Gandalf shrugged a few times before saying,

“Oh, alright. Just a few though.”

Alinor enjoyed his fireworks, as well, but they did have a tendency to go astray sometimes. Oh well, she’d rather see them than not.

Plus, if anything would get the attention of her parents and Raebidus, it would be the ruckus that would ensue, so she added her voice to the clamor of encouragement.

~~~

At the beginning of the noise, Aldaraen and Faerlin both jumped in surprise, then stood with Raebidus to go to the door with other patrons to discover what was causing the loud clamor.

As they appeared on the raised porch, their daughter, Alinor, turned and looked at them with a wide smile, as if accomplishing some plan, but they all ducked when a firework exploded rather close above them.

Saruman groaned and retreated back into the Inn, looking embarrassed, and Raebidus laughed, knowing full well what was going on.

“Our clever daughter is waiting on us, or else she would not have allowed such foolery to take place,” Faerlin said, although she watched the bright colors in fascination. The people were cheering. She elbowed Aldaraen in the ribs, adding, “She is just like you. That child has nothing from my family except for those green eyes.”

“Which will undoubtedly turn to blue,” Aldaraen smiled at her when they ducked again, a small blue rocket whizzing past.

“Go fetch them,” Faerlin returned the smile and gave him a gentle shove on the back before retreating quickly back into the Inn.

Aldaraen leapt off the porch, one hand on the rail, and spotted Garrik, who was watching his every move like a well-trained dog, awaiting some order.

The Avari smiled at him when he met his black gaze, and began making his way towards him, reached behind Gandalf and pulling Aldariil with him.

He was such a good young Elf, and Raebidus felt much joy in his heart at Raebidus’ consent to their questions.

~~~

~ The next day…

“Alright, Garrik,” Aldaraen said quietly, standing from where he had been sitting before the fireplace in their home, “There is a perfectly good reason why I wished for you to be last in our exchanging of gifts. These are for you, lad.”

Faerlin reached up and handed him several things, to Garrik’s surprise, and he felt slightly suspicious, in a curious way, of what was going on, for this was rare. He had expressed every year that he didn’t want anything from them unless they made it, and they had conceded. He loved everything he received, however, it always embarrassed him greatly.  
Gifts were never wrapped, but the things that he accepted from Aldaraen were each wrapped safely in a cloth, as if to keep them safe.

Aldaraen did not retreat back to his original sitting place, but he sat closer to Garrik now and next to his Elflings, who were watching in wide-eyed interest. 

“That one first, Garrik,” Faerlin said softly, smiling at him, and motioned to one of the three, wrapped objects, “Be careful, love, for it’s fragile.”

It felt like a frame, and Garrik felt excitement well in his chest, for he had always wished for a painting of Faerlin’s to call his own, but he was speechless when he removed the protective cloth and gazed down at what could only be an Avari She-Elf.

“Who is that?” he said quietly, and traced his finger along her perfectly expressed features, “She is beautiful.”

“She is your mother,” Faerlin answered him gently, “I knew you would wish to see her, and perhaps keep her memory with you always.”

Garrik looked up at her sharply with a small smile, seeming as if he were about to tear up, then gazed back down at the picture again, “Thank you so much, Faerlin. She is just as beautiful as you have ever made her sound.”

Aldaraen was looking at the picture oddly, as well, and Garrik turned it towards him.

The elder Elf nodded slowly before saying, “Yes, that is her. That brings back many memories for me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Garrik placed the picture down quickly on the ground, “I didn’t mean to…to—“

“No, Garrik, it’s fine,” Aldaraen laughed, although he swallowed hard and rubbed at his chest as if scratching it, “It is beautiful, is all. I am glad to see her face copied down so flawlessly. It has been long since I have seen it.”

Garrik nodded, but he didn’t lift it again.

“Now this one, lad. It is very special. I crafted part of it, as did Faerlin,” Aldaraen grinned at him and prodded one of the other items, “Hurry, for I cannot bear to be kept waiting any longer. Faerlin and I have been waiting very long for this day.”

Garrik smiled at him, tilting his head, and obliged, pulling forth several of his old tunics, folded. A brown, black, and dark green one, and he looked at Faerlin curiously.

“My bit, I guess, she folded in there somewhere,” Aldaraen said quickly, “Faerlin altered those without asking you, but I believe you will like what she did, very much.”

“I always like…” Garrik faded away when he lifted one of his tunics and held it out, displaying, in silvers, white, and a few other colors, the stitching of Aldaraen’s House, consisting of the leaves of his own House, the royalty of Mirkwood, and then the single blossom signifying youth, what differentiated his family from Thranduil’s, who had chosen an elegant spider shape. He had seen the marking on most of Aldaraen, Faerlin, Alinor, and Aldariil’s clothing.

He checked the next tunic, and, having been folded in this particular clothing item, a circlet slipped from it and landed on the floor.

“That’s what I crafted, there, of course,” Aldaraen muttered, watching Garrik closely when the young Avari lifted it tenderly and held it aloft.

It was silver, and similar, again, to Alinor’s and Aldariil’s, except that the green, leaf shaped jewel at its apex was intertwined with the finest of silver wires, as if embracing it. 

Garrik had never seen anything of the like before, and he truly could not speak, looking quickly at Aldaraen with an open mouth.

“Yes, that was extremely difficult, so I’d appreciate it if you took very, very good care of it,” he smiled at him.

“But…” Garrik looked at Faerlin too, but she merely smiled at him, as well, so he stared back at Aldaraen, “But…this is your House…” 

“Yes, I know,” Aldaraen became serious, “Garrik, I have discussed it with my family, and…and we wish to ask you to…to accept our Mark, our name and title, and live under us as…as a son.”

Garrik cast his gaze down and pressed his lips together with a quiet gasp, so Faerlin added,

“Garrik, Aldaraen and I have grown to love and care for you as a son, and Alinor and Aldariil love you as their brother. The thought of leaving you behind when we travel to Mirkwood has been plaguing us for many years. We would like for you to come with us, along with your brother, whom we have discussed this with already, and you have his blessing on the matter. Would you accept?”

Garrik was quiet, but when he looked back up at them, he smiled and said softly, “I’m dreadfully sorry, for I…feel very emotional over the matter, and do not wish to cry at this age, especially in front of you.” He bit his lip before continuing, “Of course I accept, for I’ve dreamt about the matter for years. I’ve always loved you as parents after just my first year under your roof, and the thought of being separated from your family has been…very hard…” He was quiet again, and he took a long, trembling breath, so Aldaraen moved before him and said,

“Do not worry about speaking, for ‘yes’ is the only thing you need have said for us to be joyful,” he smiled at the young Elf, then lifted the new, silver circlet and lowered it gently upon his brow, the silver gleaming against the black of his hair, “Because of your acceptance, I name you unto the House of Greenwood the Great, taken as Child by Aldaraen GoldenFlower, Prince of Mirkwood, and Faerlin, Swift of Mind, wife and Princess.”

Alinor and Aldariil were watching with wide smiles.

“Finally, for you are past the appropriate age for such,” Aldaraen retrieved the last item and took away its covering, holding a curved sword in his hands, “I also crafted this particularly for you, having been training you for many years. I knew the weight and craft should be fit to you flawlessly.”

“You did not have to do this,” Garrik said in a near whisper, and Aldaraen replied,

“Please. At this age, and with you and Aldariil doing most of the long work, I have plenty of time to spare,” he turned the sword so that Garrik might grasp the hilt, “I also bestow the sword of my House to you, and may it keep you, your family and loved ones, safe throughout all harm.”

Garrik took the hilt, the weight perfectly balanced for his arm, and he drew the flawless, shining weapon from its sheath with the quietest of hisses, holding it before his face and examining the intricate carving along the blade.

“You and your family are the kindest beings I have ever known,” Garrik said quietly, then looked at Aldaraen with teary eyes, “This sword shall ever serve you and your House forever.”

“Our House, for it is yours now, as well. Happy Yuletide and welcome to our family, now, with the more than appropriate name,” Aldaraen grasped Garrik tightly in an embrace, relieved at his acceptance, and Garrik returned it, arms trembling, “This moment has been far too long in arriving. You are now named as our son, Garrik, and will forever be known as such.”

“Garrik Aldarion.”

~~~

~ Many hours later, nightfall…

Alinor slipped from the house, leaving her parents and Aldariil to their discussions, and went to find her newly named brother, who had gone to care for the horses.

He was standing quietly, gazing up at the sky and studying the stars, something that he did nearly every night, and Alinor smiled.

“I’m afraid that I cannot think of you as a sister quite yet, although you and your brother must be my closest of friends,” he glanced warmly at her when she joined him.

“I will have trouble in calling you Brother, as well,” Alinor laughed quietly, not wishing to destroy the peace of the night, “We will work on it.”

Garrik smiled as if thinking some pleasant thought, but he didn’t respond to her, nor share his thought.

“What are you looking at?” she asked after a long silence of Garrik continuing to gaze up into the sky.

“The stars. I come to speak with the Valar, mostly, and to…to think,” Garrik answered her.

“It is odd, and sort of magical, in a way,” Alinor said softly, observing his profile before looking up at the dark sky, herself, “Elves that I have known closely, who have been through great trial, always gaze upon the stars.”

“I will not ask names,” Garrik laughed quietly, then he looked down at her, “Are you not cold?”

“No, but…I have been thinking on something Menelaudh counselled me upon, and I wished to follow her guidance tonight,” Alinor replied.

“What is it?” Garrik asked her.

“I know that there has been much name-exchanging going on this night, however, you have made it known that you do not much like the surname of LuckChild. If you would so accept…I would…I would like to gift you a surname. I have thought long on it, and I believe you know the greatness and intimacy of the matter, for it is the name that the giver feels for the person in their heart. You may choose to use it, or keep it private,” Alinor began, holding her hands behind her back, “This embarrasses me, however, I would like to do it for you, and would be honored if you accept, for this is my first bestowal.”

Garrik gazed down at her quietly, then smiled and answered, “I would be honored greatly.”

Alinor nodded as if pleased, then closed her eyes briefly. 

When she opened them again, she seemed determined, reciting, “Garrik Aldarion, amin naa on- sina essa a' lle. Ten' lle cael- ta il- quene en', ri' uma,” she reached, to his surprise, for his face, and she held it gently for a moment before moving it so that it faced the heavens once more, “I give unto you the surname StarGazer. For you are ever gazing upon the stars, and your heart is filled with their pure light. May the stars ever guide you on your journeys, and may their light forever be in your heart and eyes.” She bowed her head, then finished, “Elen maa naa i' essa amin ona a' lle.”

“I choose to make it known,” Garrik responded quietly, “I will be called StarGazer.”

Alinor gave him a small smile, then bowed slightly to him and said, “So shall you be known. Garrik Aldarion, StarGazer.”

“Thank you,” Garrik glanced back up at the sky, then back to Alinor, and said, “I would have wanted none other to bestow my first surname unto me.”

“That is well then,” Alinor laughed, “Bestowing being past now, do you truly like it? I thought long on it.”

“Yes, I do,” Garrik answered her with a teasing smile, “If I didn’t like it, I would not have accepted.”

“I know you jest,” Alinor hit his arm gently, “Come along, we will finish celebrating with Ada and Mama. Will you call them that?”

“Probably not,” Garrik replied, “As I will not accept the title of Prince.”

“You probably have to discuss that with Ada,” Alinor smiled.

“Probably. But I will not accept it,” Garrik replied decidedly.

~~~


	11. Heirs~Chapter 10

~ A week later…

“Hurry, hurry!” Menelaudh hovered beside the mountain as Garrik, Alinor, and Aldariil trotted up the steep path, bordered by boulders and a sheer cliff, “I can hardly wait!” She wheeled away into empty space, whistling a single note happily.

“What are we doing again?” Aldariil leapt lightly against the wall to get ahead of his sister and catch Garrik, “What is it she wants to show us?”

“Her fire has matured,” Garrik answered, not slowing their pace, “She wishes to show us.”  
Aldariil’s eyes brightened in excitement and he said, “I have only dreamt of seeing a dragon breathing unending fire!”

“It has an end, but yes, I hear it is quite magnificent,” Garrik glanced over his shoulder with smiling eyes, “Come along then, Aldariil.”

“Hurry up, Alinor!” Aldariil called over his own shoulder, and his sister rolled her eyes.

They continued at their swift trot up the side of the mountain for a few more minutes, leaping gaps and skipping up ledges that their parents would be horrified if they knew they were running about on.

Menelaudh was perched atop the large, flat ledge that she had been leading them to, tail and wings in the air happily. Her green jewel sparkled radiantly in the sun against her black chest.

“I would carry you in my claws if I were strong enough,” she said apologetically, “I know it is a long and difficult climb.”

“Do not worry, Mellon,” Alinor replied lightly, patting the dragon’s shoulder when they reached her, “We are Elves. Such things are not too difficult for us.”

“Alright. Be ready, little friends! I shall roar when I prepare to show you,” Menelaudh hopped off the ledge, wasting no time, and soared into the sky gracefully, “Watch me!”

The three Elves didn’t need any reminding, watching her closely, enchanted with her beautiful flight.

“Here she goes,” Garrik whispered, black eyes wide. He could feel it.

When she had gotten a good distance away, she hovered for only a moment before throwing back her head and loosing a tremendous roar that echoed and bounded among the rocks of the mountain. 

Chills crept up Garrik’s arms and the back of his neck, and, for a moment, he was unbelieving of he and his two companion’s friendship with the horrific beast of old tales.

A furious jet of blinding orange fire jetted from her stretched open mouth, blazing straight into the sky.

She remained that way for many long seconds, and when it seemed that she had run out of breath, she took a great inhale of air before loosing more fire, turning and twisting now in her excitement.

Garrik and Aldariil both screamed their approval towards her, but Alinor remained quiet, expression oddly worrisome. 

Garrik thought it might be because the Elves were being so obnoxious, and She-Elves were not keen to that, but he knew his friend better than that.

“What troubles you?” he touched her arm and she looked up at him, frowning.

“Menelaudh needs to hold her fire,” she replied, the rosiness from her cheeks had vanished, “Call her, for your voice is loudest.”

Garrik shrugged, but he trusted Alinor, so he cupped his hands around his mouth and made the high pitched howling sound as loud as he might.

Menelaudh looked towards them, alert, but she grew quiet and swooped back down to land next to them on the ledge.

“What is the matter? Is there danger, or someone near?” her nostrils flared as she looked about them, the huge, slit pupils in her icy blue eyes scanning the mountainous region before them.

“I don’t know,” Alinor answered, still seeming concerned, “But a very dark feeling has crept across me, something I have only felt when the rabid Mountain-Bear was observing our family and we didn’t realize it.”

Garrik tilted his head, wanting to understand. “So, you feel as if we are watched?” he asked.

“Perhaps that is what it is, or perhaps it is the memory of my old friends, Darnuigar and Earathran, who probably remember naught of me, as I hardly remember them. They discovered the Avari because of the SnowDrake’s, Khelekmin’s, dreadful roaring and displaying of his own fire. The memory of their tale to my other friends and I is very clear to me, however, and I do not think it is wise for us to be so careless and loud, Gwemyr being on the other side of the mountain or not.”

Aldariil looked disappointed as his elder, and trusted, sister spoke, but he didn’t say anything, turning, instead, to look out worriedly at the terrain far below them. 

Menelaudh remained silent, as well, hanging onto every word her Elven companion spoke.

“Instinct is intuition, most times,” Garrik said slowly, “The tales your family told were horrific enough, and if you have a bad feeling, as you were there for yourself during those dark times, then I believe we should follow Alinor’s words. Perhaps there is danger about.”

“I would not wish to bring evil upon you. I should have thought of these things,” Menelaudh apologized, lowering her large head slightly, “At least you were able to see, however.”

“Oh no, Men’, it is not your fault!” Alinor exclaimed in response, even though she still seemed pale, and Garrik wondered if she had shared all that she felt, “It was truly magnificent and beautiful beyond imagination. We will observe and learn more in the caverns instead of making such a ruckus, next time. You have grown to a very large size, and the probability of you being seen is great. When we depart, you must remember these things, for we will not be here to protect you, little as we might.”

“I know,” Menelaudh said, nodding awkwardly, “I must keep it ever in my mind until I depart to find my own nesting place.”

Alinor agreed, and Garrik was pleasantly surprised when she took his arm abruptly and leaned against him heavily. He began to ask her with a laugh what she was doing until he realized that she was looking down, eyebrows furrowed, as if she were about to slip into unconsciousness. It was something he had seen her do many times in the past, when he had first met her, and he could recognize the expression.

“Ali’?” he asked her quietly, fearfully, holding her more securely when her head bobbed once. He prepared to sit her down, but she waved him away, swiftly beginning to look better.

“It’s alright, it’s passing. I’m sorry,” she answered, and glanced after Aldariil, who was already descending the mountain path, obliviously, with Menelaudh.

“What happened to you?” he said quietly, still watching her face closely, but the color was beginning to return to her cheeks, “Are you plagued by something? Something you ate, drank—?“

“No, no,” Alinor said, taking a deep breath, and she opened her mouth to say more, but her eyes grew very wide and she grasped his arm roughly. This time, however, she dragged him with her away from the ledge and threw both of them against the ground.

She was over him almost protectively, like a dog, and Garrik remained very still, mouth open in confusion.

Alinor was sweating, even in the bitingly cold wind, and she suddenly bared her teeth, as if fighting something mentally, closing her eyes.

“What--?” Garrik began, but she slapped a hand over his mouth and rolled from over him, falling heavily on her back.

Garrik didn’t hear, nor feel, anything different, but the expression on his friend’s face was enough to make him remain quiet.

She let out a loud breath suddenly and turned her head to look at him with a dazed gaze, as if she were exhausted.

There was a raucous noise above them and the largest crow Garrik had ever seen flew from the boulders high above and made its circling way into the valley far below. At least, he thought it was a crow, but it didn’t seem to have feathers.

The situation was very odd, and Garrik was tense, frightened even, so that when Alinor’s hand grasped his bicep again, he jumped, startled.  

She leaned over him again, gaze frightened, yet set, serious. “We need to get off this mountain. Now. We are being watched. Something is searching for us with very evil magic.”

Garrik’s blood ran cold and he felt sweat of his own beginning to form on his forehead. “Why can I not feel anything?” he whispered, raising his head just enough to peer down towards the tops of the trees far below. 

“I do not know. Perhaps they are using Khelekmin’s magic, or, at least, have been imprinted by him. It seems the three Wizards were more correct than we assumed. I had to fight it away,” Alinor answered, crawling towards the path, and Garrik followed her, “They have come for us. They were searching for me, for I am Aldaraen’s offspring and share his aura. They will know he is here.”

“Khelekmin’s magic has something to do with it? How did you know that?” he asked, and began to feel frustrated that he could do nothing to abate the danger, “How did you know how to fight it away? Why are they looking for you?”

“I believe they were looking for anything to do with Aldaraen, or perhaps, they have returned for the dragon egg they left behind. I know not,” Alinor didn’t pause in her crawling, “I believe it is Khelekmin’s magic because that might be why you were not affected.”

“Why were you? That dragon touched your father’s mind, not your own,” Garrik said.

“That dragon shared its thoughts and feelings with Ada, and forever became a part of him,” this was something Garrik had never heard before, so he listened closely, “He passed it on to his blood-children, of course. I have a strong feeling that that is why Menelaudh was originally drawn to me, for the same thoughts are passed down to Hatchlings from their sires. This, too, is why she loves you so much, for you are Vilna’s son. Aldariil and I are affected by its presence, its magic, at least, in a very tiny fraction of what Ada feels. I do not think Khelekmin is here, but something that has shared its mind, or was forced to share its mind, was reaching out for us. Accidentally or not. I do not know how I fought back, as my father doesn’t understand abilities he has, for he has forgotten what the dragon did to him, and does not fully understand it, either.”

“But what would your deaths have to do with our Enemy’s conquest?”

“It would not be our deaths. It would be our capture, undoubtedly,” Alinor answered swiftly.

“But why?”

“To hold against the King, of course.”

“The King?” Garrik was floundering, trying to keep up.

Alinor paused in obvious irritation and turned, staring at him, and snapping, “My uncle.”

“Oh,” Garrik was beginning to understand.

“My uncle loves us so much, to a fault, that he would do anything to protect us, and our enemies know that. At least, that is what I have heard from my parents. Sadly, I forget much of my younger years.”

“But why wasn’t Aldariil affected?”

Alinor paused and turned again, gaze serious, and she answered lowly, “Because, Garrik, our Enemies do not know of his existence, but they know of mine. I was born in those dark times, raised and talked of in Mirkwood, but Aldariil was, and is, not. Mama was carrying him when we departed Mirkwood.”

Garrik nodded slowly. “But Brigands have come for the dragon eggs before. What if they are coming to take Raebidus and I, or some other reason.”

Alinor swung herself down onto the path, able to stand now, out of sight, and answered, “I do not think that is the case. They might do it on a side note, of sorts, but the Wizards warned us, and we did not heed them in leaving right away. Somehow, our Enemy has discovered that we departed Mirkwood, and where we departed to. Or they are searching. They have found me. They touched my mind, and they know Aldaraen will be not far away.”

“We need to tell him,” Garrik swung down next to her, “Ali’, it is time to tell them everything.”

“We will take this one step at a time,” Alinor grasped Garrik’s tunic as he walked past her and yanked him back, “Garrik, I started this, and I will finish it. I will speak to my parents. You will not.”

“Of course,” Garrik answered, bowing his head.

“We must make haste. They were near, whoever it was. They will attempt to follow. They must not see Menelaudh, whatever happens,” Alinor began running down the path and Garrik followed her, having gotten much more light-footed and nimble during his training with Aldaraen, “I will alert Menelaudh to what is happening.”

“Why?”

“She can glide to the bottom of the mountain with Aldariil in her claws. He is still young and will only slow us down,” Alinor howled once for Menelaudh before finishing to Garrik, “We will run the entire way. Do you understand? Run.”

“This is worse than you’re telling me, isn’t it,” Garrik said.

“I have had to speak quickly, but yes. We are in terrible danger, and I was stupid, having not brought a weapon. My father and Uncle Yaeran are not close enough to aid me this time. We will have to flee as swiftly as the wind.”

~

Aldariil could not understand all that his sister was saying to Menelaudh, but it was urgent, and, apparently, Menelaudh understood all.

“Hold on, small brother,” she said quietly and took him up abruptly, wrapping one foot about his chest, another about his shoulders, “We glide swiftly to the ground.”

“Do not hide in the cavern, Aldariil. Wait for us!” Alinor shouted, but Aldariil was speechless as he was lifted over the edge of the mountain, eyes bulging.

“Go, go. Run,” Alinor pushed Garrik ahead of her and was pleased that she did not have to slow behind him, for he was very swift.

There was another strange noise above them that she recognized as the large, winged thing, and she looked up. It was soaring above them, calling.

“Run, Garrik. Put wind into your feet,” she said quietly, but she knew he had heard her.

There was a whistle, imitating nearly perfectly the sound of a hawk, but Alinor could tell plainly that it was a signal, it was fake. Whoever was tracking them swiftly were Men. 

“Men,” Garrik voiced ahead of her, and Alinor smiled. He was learning quickly.

Rocks clattered across the path ahead of them from above, and both Elves looked up towards the ridges in time to see a great beast leap across a gap and disappear again behind the rocks, something astride it.

“Was that a wolf?” Garrik sounded terrified and Alinor answered, trying to sound calm, even though she was just as frightened,

“No, Mellon. Wargs. I have never heard of Men astride Wargs. They must have learned the art from their Orc companions. I believe they are not coming for you and your brother, but they are indeed coming for my family.”

They saw no more movement until they had made a long leap downwards, falling and tumbling gracefully back to their feet.

There was another whistle, and an answering one sounded from ahead of them, very close.

“They circled the mountain,” Alinor called, and began sprinting towards where Aldariil should be waiting for them, trusting that Garrik was behind her.

There was a hiss and a few black arrows struck the trees about them.

“Garrik, run as you might,” she yelled at him, “They have seen us. Do not give them a steady target.”

She turned and met his gaze, which was oddly focused, and he nodded at her, disappearing in a powerful, upwards leap.

It took her a moment to understand what he had done, but when she did, she felt very dumb indeed. All of her training beside Haldir, the twins and Minerva…

She leapt upwards, as well, and found herself beside Garrik. She glanced at him as they flew across the limbs together, and shared a smile in a rare moment of pride and oneness.   
He was an Avari, trained by the Prince as a Woodland Warrior, matching her steps in the trees expertly.

They exploded from the tree-line together before the cavern, and Menelaudh was nowhere to be seen, but Aldariil was already up and ready for flight.

To her shock, even as she was shouting at Aldariil to follow, Garrik suddenly slid to an abrupt stop before her, and she tripped over him, sending them both tumbling in a tangle of limbs into the river.

Before she could curse effectively at him, he looked at her with wide eyes and spluttered, “Smoke from the East! They’re burning--!”

“Raebidus is fine. He was at our home before we left,” Alinor pulled herself from the water and began dragging Garrik with her, “Do not be a fool. We must keep going and tell Ada.”

“They will follow—“ Garrik couldn’t believe they were about to break into an argument, but he stopped talking to scream Aldariil’s name when a giant Warg burst from the trees behind the young Elf, claws outstretched.

Aldariil ducked without another fraction of a second to lose, the Warg hitting the ground heavily.

Aldariil wasted no time in running about the struggling creature as it tried to rise, and Alinor grasped his hand, dragging him along, Garrik on their heels.

A group of 5 men, dressed in the familiar black of Raebidus and Garrik, the uniform of the Enemy of Mirkwood, leapt onto the boulders before them, surrounding the path down the waterfall, bows drawn. Their hair was bright red, just as Raebidus’.

Alinor yanked the hood of Garrik’s cloak over his head, staring at him pointedly.

“Do not move, Elves. I know you can understand us,” their leader hissed, his eyes cloudy. 

They all wore facial coverings, as well. Covering all but their eyes and forehead.

Three Wargs fell in behind the three Elves, Men astride them, as well, and Alinor swallowed. There was nothing she could think of to get them out of this.

Aldariil was between them, eyes wide, and Garrik turned towards the Wargs.

“What do you want?” Alinor called in the language of Men, thinking her words carefully, “We are merely Green-Elves out hunting.”

“You take us for fools, Princess? Your coloring and resemblance to your family back in Mirkwood is enough. If you were hunting, why are you not armed? Besides, how many Elves live so far in the Iron Mountains?” the leader laughed and he lowered his bow slightly, “If you wish to live, you will lead us to your miserable father. He has escaped us too many times, and it is time for him to meet his death.”

Alinor’s tongue felt large and heavy in her mouth, but she managed, “I speak the truth. You are mistaken.”

The leader leapt from the boulders and walked forward until he was very close to Alinor’s face. She could smell him.

He took one more slow step towards her until they were nearly touching, but she kept her chin raised, staring defiantly back into his empty eyes. She could hear Garrik’s breaths growing swifter in anger or fear, she knew not.

Abruptly, the same probing feeling she had felt on the Mountain struck her mind, and Alinor clenched her teeth, hoping that however she had fought it before was instinctive and came automatically.

It did, to her relief, but the Brigand smiled at her as soon as the pressure receded and he backed away, saying,

“How do you know my magic, then, She-Elf? We are forced to share our minds with the beast Khelekmin. The Dragon once shared his mind accidentally with a Woodland Elf. You are his filthy spawn.”

“Who are the other two?” one of the Brigands called.

“Yes, answer that,” the leader motioned to Alinor with his arrow.

She was silent, and remained stone-faced.

“You Elves are all the same. No feelings, no emotion,” the leader snarled, and pulled his arrow to his ear, “I will fire if you do not answer me.”

Alinor continued staring into the Brigand’s eyes, but she ever so slowly and indiscreetly pressed her hand against Garrik’s leg.

“Then shoot me, Man, for I would rather die by your arrow than bring about my family’s murder,” she hissed, but before any response could be made, Garrik moved the swiftest she had ever seen him, twisting the leader’s bow from his grip and drawing it himself.

“If anyone moves I will fire upon your leader! How would your Master like that?” he shouted, and the Brigands obviously seemed taken aback.

Alinor knew there was nothing they could do against all the Brigands, but at least this was stalling. Her mind was racing, but it was coming up with nothing. 

“If you kill me, you will still be murdered, for you are far outnumbered,” the leader said, having not taken his gaze from Alinor.

“True, but you need us. You are bluffing,” Alinor responded coolly.

“I only need one,” the leader snarled, and Alinor felt her lip curling as her father’s did, and she forced the expression away.

“Your eyes are very black for hailing from Mirkwood,” the leader said, staring at Garrik now, although his gaze was different, “Who are you?”

“StarGazer,” Garrik hissed at him, then smiled a little and added, “Why? Does it make you less scared knowing that I have a name?”

“Your black eyes seem dead in the depths of your hood,” the leader leaned slightly closer to him, eyes narrowing, “I do not know why, but you resemble the—“

Alinor felt her mouth drop when Garrik fired the arrow clean through the Brigand leader’s chest, but she grasped Aldariil and leapt aside, even as the Brigands on the boulders fired their own arrows and the Wargs leapt forward.

She could only watch helplessly as the three Wargs make their final lunge towards her where she crouched prone on the ground over her younger brother, weaponless, their riders drawing their swords.

A great roar erupted from the cavern, then, and Menelaudh exploded in a ball of flame from the mouth of the cave, wings billowing outwards in a convincing display to make herself appear larger.

She slammed into the Wargs mid-leap before throwing herself before all three Elves, another round of arrows bouncing uselessly off of her black scales. She let out a blood-curdling scream again before blasting her brilliant fire across the frozen Brigands standing on the boulders.

Alinor knew that they wouldn’t have to check them for life, later.

All the Men who had been mounted upon the Wargs appeared lifeless, as did one of the beasts, but the two others were scrambling to their paws, howling in terror.

Menelaudh lunged towards them and snatched one up in her jaws, catching the other with her tail before stepping heavily on it, using her full weight.

It all happened so swiftly that the three Elves were still on their backs in the grass, the line before the scorched grass and boulders smoldering.

Menelaudh peered over them eventually, head tilted. “I have my supper,” she said.

“You killed them all,” Aldariil seemed star-struck as he stared up at her, then he smiled, to Alinor’s surprise and relief, and finished, “You saved us.”

“They were going to kill you,” Menelaudh said matter-of-factly, “I could not watch that happen. But now there is no word to return to the Enemy, for they are all dead.”

“These are probably just scouts, Men’,” Garrik said from a little way away, “Your fire was…extraordinary. You were very frightening.”

“It is well that you have me as your friend, no?” Menelaudh seemed pleased, “I am glad I was finally able to help you.”

“Yes. It is incredible that we have you as a friend,” Alinor said in almost a whisper. Her heart was still beating very fast. “We can never thank you enough, Menelaudh.”

Menelaudh smiled at them with her eyes.

Alinor rested her head in the grass again, gathering her wits, and that was when she saw the winged thing in the sky circling above them before swooping away.

“We need to get home quickly. Very quickly,” she stood and helped Aldariil up as well, “There are more of them. I feel it.”

“They were burning your home, Garrik. Or Raebidus’ home,” Aldariil said sadly, looking up at the tall Elf, “Men’ and I saw it as we were descending.”

“I do not care for the home, for Raebidus and the Wizards were at Aldaraen’s home when we left,” Garrik sounded only slightly relieved.

“I will hide again, but you had best hurry to warn your family,” Menelaudh touched each of their heads gently with her muzzle, “Call me if you need help.”

“You will be able to hear us?” Aldariil asked in fascination.

Menelaudh looked over her shoulder as she hustled back into the cave, responding, “Perhaps, yes. Now flee, small brothers and sister. As swiftly as the waters of the river.”

~

Alinor knew the Elves were following her as she trotted across the scorched, burning ground to get back onto the path. 

The bodies of the Brigands must have fallen into the river far below, to be washed away.

She still was shocked that the dragon had come to their aid. She knew, as a friend, that Menelaudh would have done so, but thinking of all the horror tales of the Great Worms made the fact all the more extraordinary.

She could not rid her head of the Firedrake’s deafening roar, the wild light that had appeared in the dragon’s blue eyes...

She checked behind her once for her brother and Garrik, then broke into a full sprint, making much better time now that the path was easier and level.

~~~


	12. Heirs~Chapter 11

“Numonex!” Aldaraen pounded on the Man’s door wildly, checking more than once that his entire family was still behind him, “Numonex, I need you!” 

The Man flung the door open, sword already in hand, but when he saw the familiar Elf’s features, he lowered his weapon and asked, “What is this about, Aldaraen? It is late in the night—”

“Numonex, we are hunted. I must come in and speak with you,” Aldaraen shook his head apologetically, “I never wished for Gwemyr to be involved, however, my family cannot flee. I will not see them murdered. I am afraid that they will lay attack on Gwemyr if they cannot find us, so I need to take action now and leave my family here--”

“What? Slow down, Master Elf,” Numonex looked shocked and confused.

“You are the Master of this town, Numonex, and a friend. I am asking you to house my family while…while…” Aldaraen’s sapphire eyes were wide, and he took another breath, “Please. We will not take much room. There is nothing else I can do.”

“Come in and explain. I have grown up with your family being the closest of friends with my own and I have never seen you this way,” Numonex beckoned to him worriedly, and seemed surprised when Aldaraen stepped aside and ushered his family in first, followed by Raebidus and the Wizards.

“Now tell me, Aldaraen. What is--?”

“Numonex, I do not wish for you to send any Man to my aid. This is my problem and my problem alone,” Aldaraen seemed helplessly upset, “But they must be alerted. I only worry that if I fail in my mission, our Enemy might lay attack on this town for no other reason than--”

“Before there are any decisions made, speak to me slowly, my friend,” Numonex put a hand on his arm, “If they do not already know where you live, then you must still have a day or so.”

Aldaraen was breathing quickly, but he seemed to be struggling to calm himself. 

“I’m sorry for my panic,” he said quietly, “I am…frightened. I did not think we could be found, but we have been, and it’s because of the magic that Dragon worked upon me. I am frightened for my family.” His hands were clenched so hard that his knuckles were white.

“We tried to tell you,” one of the Wizards muttered, “But did you listen?”

“Why are you frightened, Aldaraen?” Numonex shook his head slightly, motioning for the Elves and their company to sit.

“Because they will be killed, Numonex,” Aldaraen replied, covering his face with his hands, while Faerlin merely looked embarrassed, “Thranduil was right. I should never have left. My family is to be killed, and I am at fault.”

~~~

~ Later that night, in Numonex’s home…

Alinor rose on her elbows and observed her family and friends sleeping on the floor of Numonex’s living room before the fireplace, covered in blankets and sleeping on mats provided by the Man and his family.

She saw her father sitting in the corner, sharpening and cleaning his sword with silent, practiced ease. His eyes were still wide and he wore a worried expression that Alinor had never seen before, or at least, didn’t remember, and it made him look very young.

She felt sick, knowing that it was most likely her own fault that all of this had befallen. She never should have returned for the Hatchling…She cast the thought from her mind. Menelaudh was her friend. She shouldn’t think such things.

She crawled towards him, and he paused from his work, watching her approach with shining eyes.

“Ada,” she pulled herself up next to him, and took his hand, which felt very cold, “Ada, this is not your fault.”

He blinked at her as if not expecting those words, then looked away. 

“It truly isn’t. I can say that with no doubt. Please, do not blame yourself.”

He withdrew his hand from her own and clenched them together in his lap, the muscles in his forearms growing rigid.

“It is my fault, Melamin. I should have listened to my brother and stayed in Mirkwood,” he raised his eyes towards the ceiling and Alinor was shocked to see tears brimming in his gaze when the firelight reflected from it. He looked back down and sniffed hard. “He was always right, and I was always an idiot. Why did I not take his advice? Now my family might be murdered, and, if these Brigands or whatever has come for us attack this town, the blood of the Men of Gwemyr shall be shed. I brought this upon them.”

“You didn’t, Ada. The Enemy did not merely stumble upon us. Someone must have told them of where we were,” Alinor said desperately, “Think on it.”

“Alinor, go to bed, young one,” Aldaraen cut his gaze to her, and, for a moment, he didn’t seem a father anymore, but a close friend who was struggling, “If anything happens tomorrow, you will need all your wits about you.”

“If we fight, would we fire from afar or be at close combat?” Alinor asked, and her father looked at her with wide eyes, a bewildered expression spreading across his face. 

“We? You will stay in safety with your mother and brother. You will not fight,” he said vehemently, “Garrik will accompany me.”

“Ada, I trained for years to be a Mirkwood Guard. I was a few years away only to graduate before we left. You continued my teaching, then. I am perfectly able to fight alongside you,” Alinor retorted stubbornly.

“You will stay here. You are too young and inexperienced. I had been battling Weavers nearly every day at your age. You have faced Mountain-Bears, yes, but also nearly died. I will not lose you again,” Aldaraen placed his sword beside his mat and lay down, though he kept his gaze on her, “I know your strength and skill, Melamin. But this is not the time to place you in a battle. Do not disobey me, Ali’. You will not fight.”

Alinor pressed her lips together angrily, but she didn’t respond. She extended her hand from her heart stiffly before turning and going back to her own mat, her father returning the gesture before rolling over to rest his chin on his folded arms.

He kept his eye on his daughter until she had closed her eyes and seemed to fall asleep.   
He closed his own, wondering why Alinor had not fought back as he had expected. He felt exhausted. He didn’t want to think about it.

~~~

The next morning…

Aldaraen woke early, the sun just about to rise, he could feel. It was perfect timing, as he didn’t wish to wake Numonex, who would undoubtedly wish to aid him.

He moved about quietly so as not to alert his wife and young son, and was just tightening his belt securely about his slender waist when he noticed that his curved sword and scabbard were not where he had left them before he had fallen asleep.

He continued to stare stupidly at the place it should have been occupying, but it didn’t appear.

Panic began to rise in his chest, that being his only weapon besides his bow, and he searched under his mat, moving quickly about the room.

“Aldaraen, what is wrong?” Garrik’s soft voice made him jump and he turned quickly, looking up at the dark Elf worriedly.

“I cannot find my sword, lad. Did you take it?” he asked.

“No, Ali’ did very early this morning. She tripped on me on her way outside and woke me,” Garrik stretched, arching his back.

Aldaraen watched the Avari dumbly before managing to stammer, “She…Sh-She left.”

“Yes, she said you wanted her to whet your sword outside before you departed at sunrise,” Garrik’s eyes grew round when he realized that Aldaraen had said no such thing, “Surely she is not so stupid…?”

“I thought I was not stupid when I was young,” Aldaraen said grimly, “Get dressed, Garrik. We leave immediately.”

~

Their boots made barely a sound on the cobbled streets of Gwemyr as the two Elves raced side by side in the dawn light, making for the Gates and then to the forest trail, hoping to catch Alinor.

According to Garrik, she had not left but a few minutes before Aldaraen awoke.

They rounded the final corner together but came to an abrupt stop, shocked at the scene before them.

There was nearly 50 Men, armed and waiting before the gates, staring expectantly at them.

Garrik stepped slightly behind Aldaraen, who was standing rigid and tall, staring with a slightly open mouth at the party before him. He recognized nearly every face, having seen most of them grow up and even helping, sometimes, in their raising.

“The word spread quickly, my friend,” Numonex stepped forward and bowed slightly, motioning behind him, “I had nothing to do with this band. They joined on their own, unwilling to see your family in danger from criminals. You have protected us many times before, and have aided each and every one of us massively. You are loved, Aldaraen GoldenFlower. You, and your family. We all offer you our sword gladly, for we are pleased that we may now offer you service in your time of need. We will not see you face danger with but a lad at your side.”

Aldaraen’s teeth set and he was silent for a long time, causing Garrik to begin to feel unrest. His adrenalin was receding.

“I do not wish to see a one of you killed,” Aldaraen said at last, raising his chin, “I cannot lead Men to this battle, and not because you are not Elves, for I am far accustomed to your ways and with working alongside you, but because this is my fault, and my fault alone. I will not bring this issue to Gwemyr’s doorstep, and I will not see your blood shed for a mistake I have made in coming to these lands.” 

“We would rather face a band of Brigands than you have not come to these lands at all, GoldenFlower,” one of the men called, “We are your friends and allies. This is what communities are for. You have helped every one of us in our time of need, now it is our turn to return the favor. We will follow you, whether you wish for us to or not.”

Aldaraen was quiet again, although not for as long as before, to Garrik’s relief, and he said,

“If you accompany me, then you will do as I say.”

“Of course. We’d follow your leadership anywhere. You have proved thus many times over,” Numonex answered, then extended his blade towards the Elves, followed by the other Men, “We will stand beside you, Aldaraen GoldenFlower, as you have for us in the past. Lead on, my lord.”

~~~

“If you aid us, then you will be introduced as a friend and none shall die. This is the opportunity we have been searching for,” Alinor held Menelaudh’s muzzle closely, staring straight into the beautiful blue depths of the dragon’s bright eyes, “Of course, it is entirely up to you, but I believe this is as good a time as ever to—“

“I need not ponder if I shall aid you or not. Of course, I will,” Menelaudh said, “But how will I tell the Men apart?”

“Oh, you will be able to see, my friend,” Alinor said, “We have no time to waste. I have taken my father’s sword, and we must beat him and Garrik to confrontation before blood is shed.”

“When I carried your brother from the mountain, I found that he was light enough to take me astride and I still be able to fly. You are lighter than Aldariil, are you not?” Menelaudh asked, turning her head this way and that to examine the She-Elf, “You seem like it.”

“Yes, I am. But…no one has ever ridden a dragon before…” Alinor stammered and her thoughts began to swim violently, “How would I do such a thing? It has never been done.”

“I know not. Hang on tightly with your legs and hands? I am a smooth flyer,” Menelaudh answered, “I do not mind taking you upon my back, for we have the closest of relationships. You are blood-kin to me. I think nothing of the deed, and I am offering it to you.”

“You feel as kin to me, as well,” Alinor hugged her muzzle tightly, beginning to feel overwhelmed, “If it is best, I will take your counsel.”

“Very well. I am pleased that we may try this,” Menelaudh said, “If anything goes awry, I will merely catch you in my claws and we will go to the ground.”

“Let us hope we do not have such a mishap,” Alinor breathed, watching Menelaudh turn and crouch, lowering a shoulder to her, “I am frightened, Men’.”

“I will take care of you, little one,” Menelaudh looked back at her calmly, gaze serious, “I will protect you. You have my utmost trust; do I have your own?”

Alinor paused, then nodded once, decidedly, and vaulted up onto her companion, not giving it a second thought.

~~~

Aldaraen halted the company in the thick foliage behind his home, feeling the presence of Dark Magic, something he hadn’t felt for years upon years, before them. Most likely even in the pasture before the Elves’ home, approaching the residence with quiet caution.

Aldaraen turned, pulling the sword Numonex had lent him from his belt, and motioned the Man close.

“I will allow them to take me, and then I will begin slaying when I am close to their main group, moving swiftly so they will not catch hold of me, I hope. There should not be many, for my Elflings say they only saw Brigands and Wargs. Perhaps they would not split their party, unless my Elflings witnessed only scouts.”

“When shall we help?” Numonex whispered, furrowing his eyebrows.

“If you see me being overwhelmed. When I go around the house, follow me to that place and watch in concealment,” Aldaraen replied shortly, “I do not want a single Man of Gwemyr dead. Only help if you absolutely must. These Brigands are only Men, slow and cumbersome.”

“With the aid of some dark and fell witchcraft, do not forget,” Numonex said, “From the tales you have told, they will be greater in strength and wit than is natural.”

“I know, my friend. Keep watch for my daughter, for it seems we have beat her to trouble,” he gave the Man a small smile before creeping out of the foliage and pressing himself against the wall of the house, peering about the corner.

He could see nothing past the boulders lining the stream that branched from the river and Aldaraen frowned, knowing he would have to mount them to see anything at all. 

He turned one last time and met the gazes of the Men behind him almost expressionlessly, then turned and dashed to the boulders, leaping atop of them lightly and standing proudly.

The expressions of the Brigands below him was one of utter disbelief and bafflement, and Aldaraen couldn’t help feeling slightly pleased.

There were definitely far more of them than Aldaraen had expected. At least 70 or 80, with the addition of the Wargs.

“If you wish to take me captive, then here I am,” he said quietly, keeping his face without emotion, “You will have to battle me first, however. I will not surrender myself as a coward.”

“You are armed with only a sword,” one of the Brigands said, drawing a bow, and Aldaraen could tell that behind his facial covering, by his eyes, that he was smirking, “Lay down your weapon, Elf.”

“You will not fire upon me because you need me alive and unharmed. I am no fool,” Aldaraen said evenly, standing his ground. He hopped off the boulders easily and swung his sword, “If you wish to take me, then let us begin.”

“You must be jesting,” the Brigand who seemed to be the leader laughed, “You cannot truly believe to defeat us all, Elf, unless the pride of the Elves run unrestrained. Do you have a hidden army at your back? A dragon, perhaps, as our winged spies have reported to unbelieving ears? Tell us who controls the dragon and we will take your family into captivity with you instead of slaughtering them. The Dark One has use for those whose minds are shared with the Great Worms.”

The Brigands all laughed, and Aldaraen felt a rush of anger, mostly at the dragon-prod, knowing, or so he thought, exactly what the Men were referring to, his tale undoubtedly having been passed on to the children of the Brigands who had inflicted the wounds upon him with joy when he was young.

“There is no dragon, you fools—,” he answered coldly, but he never finished his retort, for his own knees turned weak when an all too familiar, deafening roar sounded behind him at a distance, which was quickly growing louder.

He could not believe it. He thought his mind was playing tricks on him.

He froze in place, eyes wide in horror, not even turning to see the massive creature descending upon him. He continued staring forward even as the first blast of searing flames came from the heavens and enveloped many of the Brigands below, lighting many of the towering pines afire, as well.

The creature skidded to a stop in the small meadow, screeching horrifically, and thrashed out with its tail, claws, even its wings, quickly inflicting more damage than the small company could have in minutes.

Wargs and Brigands were scattered everywhere, desperately trying to bring the beast down, leaping for its throat, firing useless arrows upon its scales, but each time one of the enemy managed to find a hold on the creature’s back, it was quickly slew.

That was when Aldaraen saw the small figure on the monster’s back through the smoke and heat vapors, not sitting anymore, but standing in a solid, crouching stance, leaning out over the dragon’s side. One hand clutched one of the small spikes marching up the creature’s neck, the other wielded a sword with expertise.

His sword.

The figure leapt from the dragon’s back, vaulting over its head, and landed, plunging his sword into an antagonizing Warg and then finishing its rider, who had been attempting to fire an arrow at the beast’s eye.

The smoke thinned and Aldaraen finally recognized who was battling alone in the now flaming meadow, silvery hair and green tunic starkly contrast from the black uniforms of the enraged Brigands and scales of the monster.

For a horrible instant, Aldaraen didn’t recognize his own daughter, wielding his own sword, for her countenance was horrible, and he truly could not think as he stared at her, his body having turned to stone.

The dragon lowered its head and released another powerful jet of molten fire, slowly moving its great head along the ground, sweeping the Brigands and Wargs in the entire area. 

Alinor was to be burned, but, to Aldaraen’s unbelieving shock, making him feel light-headed, the dragon lowered the tip of a wing before the fire reached her and Alinor pressed against it. The flames roared past the fireproof wing, buffeting his daughter’s cloak and hair as it roared past, and she actually smiled, laughing, as if in the face of the impossible situation. 

She was fighting with the dragon.

Aldaraen stared at them with an open mouth and heard the sword he held in his hands clatter uselessly to the ground.

As soon as the fire had ceased, Alinor tore away from the dragon’s cover and began easily dispatching their afflicted enemies.

There was a flash of movement above him and Aldaraen glanced up just as Garrik vaulted over him from the boulders, drawing his new, shining sword with a ferocious cry.

He met what seemed like a giant bat in the air that had been descending with its fellows for Aldaraen, ending it with his sword.

Garrik landed and flipped Aldaraen his sword with the tip of his own, shouting, “The dragon is a friend. Snap out of it, we need you!”

Aldaraen did just that as the Men of Gwemyr began landing about him on all sides, led by Numonex and Raebidus, who had joined them, leaping from the boulders, and charging to finish to rest of the assaulting group.

The dragon looked at the oncoming company in surprise, and seemed unsure of what to do, lifting one of its black feet cautiously, but to Aldaraen’s surprise, again, Garrik raced towards it, yelling, “Only the black clad ones, Mellon!” 

What had Aldaraen missed?

He turned on his heel when the hair stood on the back of his neck and caught a Warg full on, twisting out of the way as it tumbled to the ground. It had been long since he had battled in this way, and he felt rusty, like an unused tool.

A Brigand wrapped an arm around his neck and pressed a sword to his throat, but Aldaraen elbowed him sharply in the gut and pushed the weapon away, being it was only a single-edged blade, before using it on its owner.

He turned and watched as five or six of the giant bats began to descend onto the dragon’s head and harass it, successfully ending its victory streak, while the Brigands and Wargs moved in together with the Men of Gwemyr, seeing the dragon was not to harm them.

Garrik flung himself at the beast’s neck and clambered up it in two smooth movements, his sword flashing in great arcs, dispatching many of the filthy creatures as he climbed.

“Garrik!” Aldaraen wouldn’t go any closer to the dragon, but he watched as three of the bats swirled into the air, screeching, and began climbing higher into the sky, “Garrik, they will carry word to the Master, or whoever their first officer might be!” 

Garrik glanced at him and dropped to the ground, exchanging a single glance with the dragon, who nodded briefly, and he ran for the boulders, the beast on his heels.

Aldaraen watched with wide eyes, still unbelieving of this incredible alliance, as the black dragon took flight, creating a great wind, and Garrik vaulted from the boulders again, although this time, he landed on the dragon’s back, as Alinor had been battling- In a sort of solid half crouch, sword in one hand, clutching a spike in the other.

“Garrik, be careful!” he couldn’t help yelling after the two dark forms, and he turned in time for his daughter to be flung into his chest by the Brigand who appeared to be the leader.

He caught her under the arms, and she seemed dazed, but she leapt to her feet, lifting the sword again to charge her enemy.

Aldaraen felt a small touch of pride, seeing his daughter with such a warrior’s spirit, but she had disobeyed in so many horrendous ways, he didn’t have time to ponder them. He gave her a stern glare before snatching his own blade and delivering the borrowed one to her hand.

“I want my own blade, like Garrik. Why did he get one and I did not?” she muttered.

“We will talk on the matter after we discuss many other things,” he replied, and took the brunt of a Wargs blow when it leapt over the Brigand’s head, shoving his daughter out of the way. It was difficult for him to remember that he was fighting alongside his child. Perhaps it was the underlying anger he felt for her, at the moment.

Before the two Elves could engage the Brigand, Numonex beat them to him, and Aldaraen groaned. So far, no Men of Gwemyr had been slain, thanks to the dragon’s intervention, but Numonex was rash, and things might not end well for him.

“You Men would stand against us of your own Race, flesh and blood?” the Brigand called to Numonex, who didn’t even blink, “You would kill your own kind for the sake of a family of Elves? They don’t care for you, at all!” 

“Look, I’m the Master of the town of Gwemyr, and I’m harassed most every day by strangers, so you do not frighten me with your mere heckling,” Numonex swung his sword, narrowing his blue eyes, “And you are wrong. These Elves care deeply for us, refusing our aid at the first. They might seem cold and unfeeling to you, but to the ones of us who take the time to know them and to respect their customs, you will find that they can be the closest of companions and allies. We stand against you, for we love them as we love our neighbors of the race of Men. We would have it no other way.”

Aldaraen paused upon hearing Numonex’s words and gave him a small smile when he briefly met his gaze. The Man could handle this, and Raebidus was advancing to help him.

Aldaraen turned towards the main group now, just as the last of the Wargs and Brigands were cut down, and breathed a sigh of relief. No one had been lost, and the house that was to meant for Numonex and his family was still intact.

He saw his daughter on the roof, now, staring up at the sky where all sorts of horrendous noise was to be heard, and he followed her gaze.

Garrik and his dragon companion had brought down two of the three fleeing bats, the beast by catching one in her jaws, Garrik by catching the other with his blade.

The final grotesque bat was climbing higher and higher into the sky, and the dragon was following it, great black wings billowing as it pushed hard for more altitude.

“Men’, can you make it?” Garrik called to her, for she seemed to be straining, “Should I drop away and you catch me?” 

“No,” Menelaudh answered, and took a long breath before loosing her fire upon the creature. 

Garrik had only a moment to relish in the victory until a sudden bout of dizziness descended upon him when he looked down for the first time, and he felt that he was not getting enough air.

“Little brother..?” Menelaudh sounded worried as if she could sense the issue, and she looked back at him, hovering, “Is the air too thin?”

Garrik made a face, pushing his lips together, then answered shortly, “Yep, that might be it.”

He slipped from her back and into brief darkness, feeling the horrific beginnings of a freefall. 

Menelaudh dove after him with a cry of horror, pressing her wings to her sides, but she was gaining on him quickly. He was not in too terrible danger.

Past halfway to the ground, she caught him up gently in her claws and spread her wings to slow their descent. 

The young Elf took a deep breath and opened his eyes, shaking his head as if to clear it, and Menelaudh sighed in relief.

“Are you well? I believe you were not getting much air,” she held him tightly to her chest as she landed delicately in the grass, “You frightened me badly.”

“I’m sorry,” Garrik wheezed, his voice sounding higher than usual, and she placed him on the ground. He tripped forward several steps before falling and rolling onto his back, laughing, to Menelaudh’s confusion, “I must get land feet again, and I was so frightened I believe I have lost control of my knees.”

“Before any battling flights we take together, we ought to practice more,” Menelaudh nosed him in the chest and stomach playfully, “You were quite a natural, however.”

“You are just a very good flyer,” he kissed her nose before holding onto it, allowing her to lift him back to his feet. He still didn’t have it all together and he remained clutching her muzzle, waiting for his trembling legs to still. He could see the Men of Gwemyr and Aldaraen trotting to him from the trees, expressions worried, but Alinor ran ahead of them and to his side.

“How was it? Did you get all three?” she asked, taking his arm when he extended it to her, “Did you fall?”

“Slow down,” he smiled at her, answering slowly, “Yes, I fell, and yes, Men’ and I caught all three bats. It was…exhilarating.”

“Your hair is all blown back. You are windblown,” she giggled, and Garrik smiled at her before looking up towards Aldaraen and the Men.

“The dragon is a friend. She is named Menelaudh,” Alinor called to them, turning to face them, and placed a hand gently on her companion’s shoulder, “She has saved us from the threat.”

The Men were all silent for a moment, then, upon a first, unsure starter, they broke into cheers.

Menelaudh seemed pleased and she wrapped a wing about her two Elven friends, crushing them together against her leg in an odd embrace.

Alinor felt her cheeks squished together against the dragon and Garrik’s chest, and she muttered, “I’m glad you do not stink.”

“Me too,” he laughed, and pushed against the dragon’s leg for her to release them.

“I’m going to be in so much trouble,” Alinor whispered to Garrik before they were quite separated, holding his arms tightly so he wouldn’t move, “Do not get involved, Garrik. Do you hear me?”

“I will do as I must,” he whispered in answer, meeting her green gaze evenly, and then Aldaraen was there, taking both their arms tightly and leading them away, leaving Menelaudh to become introduced with the Men at her will.

~~~


	13. Heirs~Chapter 12

~ The next day…

“Ada, I was going to tell you when the time was right. I did not wish for you to fly into a rage or terror and order Menelaudh hunted down,” Alinor said desperately, glad that Numonex’s family had left the house for the privacy of the Elves and their long in coming confrontation, “Can you not see that this is for the good of all? She protected and saved us all--!”

“You lied to us!” Aldaraen exclaimed, putting his arms out, “Can you not see the ill in that fact alone? You knew that what you were doing was wrong, for you hid it from us. You were raising a dragon and putting every being that lives in these mountains in danger. You brought a dragon to a battle. What if she had snapped and began to slaughter at will?”

“She is as logical and wise as any one of us,” Alinor answered, ashamed at herself for her short tone and justifying argument, but she would not relinquish her fight for Menelaudh, “At least our plan was better than attempting the company on our own and getting killed because we refuse to come out of our dark mindset of being at fault all the time!

Aldaraen stared at her in surprise, and Alinor felt her heart sink, saying quickly, “Ada, I’m sorry. I did not mean that. You are right. I lied to you and put us at risk, but my heart led me to care for the Hatchling. I…I believe I was meant to find it.”

“You led Garrik and Aldariil to lie to us, as well, Alinor,” Faerlin interjected from where she sat calmly at a table, “You ought to be ashamed.”

“I am. And I have been,” Alinor replied, eyes wide, “I just…”

“You directly disobeyed me that night, as well, and took my blade to battle when I ordered you to remain with your mother,” Aldaraen stepped closer to her and pointed at himself, hissing, “Do you know how I got into the position of being ruined the way I am? It was because I disobeyed my father and went to battle instead of staying in safety, and it forever ruined my life. What if you had met the same fate? You could have played yourself directly into our Enemy’s plans, which would have been far worse for you than if you took an arrow to the heart.”

Alinor looked down, unable to look into her parent’s hurt gaze any longer. She knew that the anger in his voice was because of the worry and fear he had felt over her, and she felt terribly guilty.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, almost a whisper, “It was what needed to be done.”

Aldaraen shook his head slightly, saying, “You are not sorry. You change if you are sorry, but how can you ever rid yourself of that dragon. You cannot change, and you placed that dragon above your family, your integrity, and your own life.”

“I have always told you that she has your spirit, Aldaraen. Are you feeling as your father might have?” Faerlin said with a small smile, but Aldaraen didn’t seem amused at the similarity at all, “This will be behind us when we depart for Mirkwood. I believe she regrets the lies and disobediences, Melamin. It is quite plain.”

“I know, and I will always forgive you,” he said quietly, drawing her gaze again, “But where we are different is that you are far more stubborn than I, like my brother, and you have no respect for us any longer. I now understand why young Elves are sent away for tutoring and marriage at this age, for they need to get out from under their parent’s house for their own good.”

“Ada, I respect and value you and Mama far more than anything else on this planet,” Alinor exclaimed, looking at him desperately, “I was led to these things. I could not say no!”

“You can say no to anything, Alinor,” Aldaraen answered her evenly, looking away, “But your mother is correct. It is time for you to go to Rivendell. You hold no respect for us ad this will only drive our relationship apart. This is the last thing I shall force you to do.”

“You think I do not respect you?” Alinor exclaimed loudly, anger bubbling up suddenly, and she clenched her fists, “I apologized, yet you still act as if I have done this all on purpose to bring about the ruin of our family!” She felt tears filling her eyes, but Aldaraen merely made a strange expression, crinkling his nose, not in disgust or anything of the sort, and turned away from her, walking back towards Faerlin, who was watching with slightly widened eyes.

“That’s right, Aldaraen,” Alinor said angrily, and felt the slightest hint of accomplishment when he turned and looked at her in surprise at the name, “Just walk away and hopefully, hopefully, everything will turn out alright, isn’t that so? That’s just what you do with every problem. Walk away and hide, no matter who you hurt. The SnowDrake turned you into a coward, didn’t it?”

Aldaraen’s mouth set and he began to look angry now, and, again, Alinor saw him not as a parent, but as a friend or sibling, and she glared at him as he began walking back towards her, Faerlin standing up now.

“What are you going to do? Make me walk away? Because I will not. I am not you,” she snatched his sword from the table beside her quickly, and flipped it casually in her hand until it was pointed towards her father, who stopped in his advance, eyes growing very wide. 

“Alinor Aldarion, put that down right now,” Faerlin snapped, leaping forward, but Aldaraen put his arm out and stopped her, saying himself,

“What has come over you? Did you share your mind with that monster?” he stared at her expressionlessly, “Has it changed you?”

“Do you hate the fact that I could befriend a dragon while you were ruined by one? Why do you continue to hate her when she just saved us?” Alinor’s anger would not recede, and she finished, “I was not going to use this blade against you. I would never raise a weapon against you, for I love you with all my heart, and it pains me that you cannot see further than your own past and accept that perhaps dragons are not entirely evil, either. She has as much of a heart as you do. Khelekmin’s heart was clouded.”

“If I could not get over the past, then I would have murdered Garrik whilst he slept,” Aldaraen replied quietly, for a reason, still staring at her as if expecting a swift movement, “Lower that sword if you do not intend to use it and we will discuss Rivendell after you have cooled your hot temper. I know most of the things you are saying now are a result of your anger, for I am the same way.”

“I will not go to Rivendell,” Alinor said stubbornly, her voice rising in volume again.

“If you respected us, then you would,” Aldaraen smiled grimly, “This is the last thing we will make you do. You have my word.”

“I already said that I respect you,” Alinor said angrily, her temper beginning to rise, gripping the hilt of the sword, “Perhaps you would be able to speak more easily with me if I resembled you more, no? Do I remind you more of your brother now because of our different appearances? Does your altered appearance embarrass you so much that you cannot view me as a daughter?”

“Now you are being quite immature—“ Aldaraen began, but covered his mouth in horror when Alinor moved the sword and cut her hair neatly to her shoulders.

“Alinor,” her mother managed to make a nearly whispered word sound like a scream, but Alinor never took her furious glare from Aldaraen as her long hair pooled about her feet, shouting sarcastically,

“Is that better? I respect you so much that I wish to appear more like you, and to ease your embarrassment. I think naught of it!” she knew she was being rash, stupid, and a dreadful daughter, but her anger was so great that she didn’t care at the moment, and she threw the curved sword back onto the table violently. 

She turned and walked from the house, slamming the door behind her, as well. 

~~~

~ Half the day later, evening…

“You were wrong, Alinor,” Garrik said, looking at her hard from where he sat next to her on a grassy hill under a tree, overlooking Numonex’s home, “You were so dreadfully wrong to speak to your parents that way.”

“You do not need to tell me. You are not my mentor,” Alinor answered quietly, her voice low and eyebrows furrowed. She had long finished her crying and cursing, shifting through many emotions quickly, and Garrik was careful to wait in confronting her fully until she seemed subdued.

“You cannot take back what you said, but you may make it clear to them that you did not mean a word of it,” Garrik said, putting a hand on her knee, “You hurt them terribly. Especially your father.”

“I know,” Alinor whispered, tears forming in her eyes again, “I was so angry. I have never felt that way before. Perhaps he is right. I need to go to Rivendell.”

“No, you need to go apologize,” Garrik said.

“I will, Garrik,” Alinor looked at him in exasperation, brushing her shortened hair behind her ear, “But I am not prepared to. Not yet. I am dreadfully embarrassed and ashamed. I acted terribly.”

Garrik nodded.

There was a long, awkward silence as Alinor glared towards the house, still struggling with her thoughts.

“Your hair, Ali’,” he began, attempting to lighten the mood, and she looked at him slowly as if unbelieving of what he was about to say, so he finished with a teasing grin, “It is rather cute, actually.”

She stared at him, then smiled gently and said after a long sniff, “I’m sorry I am being so dreadful, Garrik.” She hugged him tightly, apologetically, “I am a terrible example. I am not myself.”

“No, you’re just an angry Wood-Elf. They’re all that way, I have heard,” he said gently, and she laughed wetly against his shoulder.

“I’m going to help your father chop wood before Numonex returns. Take your time and speak to your parents only when you’re quite ready,” Garrik stood after a few more moments, leaving her sitting, “They love you and would never make you do something that was not for your own good. I know this.”

“Yes. I will come soon,” Alinor answered, bowing her head and motioning to him, and Garrik nodded, departing down the hill.

~~~

~ A few hours later…

Garrik could tell that Aldaraen was more than upset as he worked alongside him in the snow, for the elder Elf’s eyes remained wider than usual, and he didn’t speak. The muscles in his jaw continued to work throughout the entirety of their splitting of wood, and Garrik decided to attempt and talk to him, as well.

“Are you angry, Aldaraen?” he asked softly when there was a moment of quiet.

“No. I’m afraid I feel more heartbroken than anything,” he answered stiffly.

“She did not mean a word of it. She was angry—“

“I know. But she will have to tell me that herself if she wishes to make amends. She knows she was wrong, because she does not have an evil heart,” Aldaraen responded, wiping his forehead and looking at Garrik, “I did not think I would have such a confrontation with any of my Elflings.”

“She has a wild spirit, and as soon as she feels restrained, she will fight back,” Garrik said.

“Again, I know that, because I was once the same way,” Aldaraen replied, “But she must learn to harness her anger.”

Garrik said no more, for he knew it was not his place to give Aldaraen counsel on his own daughter. He glanced towards the hill and saw Alinor’s silhouette against the setting sun, standing now, and watching them, and Garrik knew it was his time to depart. He felt relieved.

He glanced at Aldaraen, who was bending back to his task, and decided not to speak, merely turning and trotting towards the house.

He stood quietly beside the corner, concealing himself, and watched Alinor begin approaching her father slowly, head bowed.

Aldaraen realized then that his help had mysteriously vanished, and he looked around in confusion for Garrik until he saw his daughter coming down the hill. He put the axe down and stood, hands behind his back, head tilted, waiting for her to reach him.

Garrik could hear no words, but he saw Alinor pause before Aldaraen, a good many feet between them, and her head remained bowed as she spoke. Her cheeks were very red, and Garrik knew that she was crying again.

They looked very similar from this distance, Garrik observed. The way they stood, tall, slender bodies straight, and he smiled. He knew they would be alright.

If only Alinor hadn’t cut her hair in her fury, then the issue would have passed like smoke in the wind.

They exchanged quiet words for a very long time, and, finally, Alinor leapt forward and threw herself into her father’s waiting arms, pressing her face into his chest.

Garrik sighed in relief and retreated indoors.

“Are they alright?” Faerlin asked quietly from where she was helping clean dishes in the kitchen with Numonex’s wife, glancing over her shoulder.

Garrik nodded and smiled at her, replying, “Quite.”

~~~

~ A few days later…

“What if there are others, Aldaraen. Will you be alright?” Numonex tied the lead rope of the pack horse securely to the Elf’s saddle and wiggled the things on its back, checking their sturdiness, “I doubt as much as you that word got back to their master, but there might be more on the way.”

“We go with caution, but we must go immediately,” Aldaraen answered, and he clasped the Man in an embrace, “I would bring no further danger to this place. Thank you for your aid, my friend, and your companionship.”

“Perhaps we will see one another again, perhaps not. A few generations from now, perhaps you can tell my offspring what sort of man I was,” he laughed and backed away, “Ride safely, my long-lived friend!” He had already said like goodbyes to Alinor and Aldariil, his friends whilst growing up, and Garrik and Faerlin. 

Raebidus and the three Wizards were sharing two horses, but they seemed quite content in just the thought that were accompanying Aldaraen to Mirkwood.

Apparently they had some quest there. What it was, Aldaraen could only laugh at the thought.

It was his brother’s turn to be driven mad by the threesome.

He had to remind himself that they had indeed been correct on his family being hunted down in the Mountains, so he withheld all mockery now, be it in jest or not.

The thought of his brother made him nervous, to his surprise. He hadn’t seen him in many, many, long years, and he wondered how he had changed.

Faerlin prodded him in the back from where she sat behind him and said, “Let’s be gone, Prince. The morning sun departs swiftly.” 

Aldaraen laughed, just the prod in the back from his wife bringing back many memories, mostly good, of his very young years in Greenwood, and he raised a hand to Numonex.

The Man was holding one of his children on his hip while the rest of his family stood about him, and they all waved to the Elves.

Aldaraen nodded and spurred his horse forward, murmuring quietly to it.

Another adventure had begun, and he was one step closer to his family back in Mirkwood.

~~~

~ Several days later… 

“How much farther?” Gandalf asked slowly, drolly, from where he lay stretched out beside a stream like a starfish, “I do not believe I ever want to see my horse again.”

“You’d best get used to it, for when you wish to travel swiftly, you will have to call upon many a horse,” Saruman muttered, sitting heavily next to him.

“Not just a horse. I’m sure there are other animals you could ride in your time of need if you but ask them,” Radagast sat on his other side and flopped onto his back, as well.

“Like what, Radagast? A rabbit? That makes a lot of sense,” Gandalf rolled his eyes, but Radagast only shrugged.

“Here,” Alinor dropped bread and cheese onto the chests of the Wizards who were on their back, then handed some to Saruman, who thanked her, “You’d best keep your ears sharp and your tongue still, for we have reached the borders of the friendly bit of the Iron Mountains. Orcs are known to roam these lands in packs for no better reason than to sack travelers.”

“This stream feeds from the river Carmen, which, in turn, feeds from the main source of the Great Lake, bordering the city of Dale, and the small town of Laketown. Mirkwood is but a good, hard ride up the river from there. We are making incredible time,” Aldaraen called to the Wizards from where he stood on a boulder, looking far away into the horizon, “Once we are out of these mountains, then there is a vast, rocky grassland, and we should be able to ride without much hindrance.”

“Are Elves always in such a hurry to travel? I do not believe I have ever made such good time traveling in my life,” Gandalf said.

“That is because, Master Gandalf, Elves know the paths and trails of the forests, and time and rest do not matter much to them, as to Mortal Men,” Raebidus smiled at him, “And, if you have quite forgotten, we are trying to avoid any surprises from our Enemy.”

“And they do not get so easily distracted,” Saruman snickered, and Gandalf huffed.

“I feel it is quite safe until we get to the grasslands, as Aldaraen said,” Gandalf answered, and the Elf of whom he spoke turned to listen, “That is when their winged spies will see us, no?”

“Indeed. That is why we are moving swiftly. They cover this land and keep watch of all passers, I have heard,” Aldaraen hopped down from the boulder and crouched next to Gandalf fluidly, who sat up quickly, “I do not wish to bring attention to ourselves by traveling through Dale or Laketown, so we skirt the establishments of Men and follow the river.”

“It would be quicker to pass through the cities, as the lake stretches far to the north, even,” Saruman tilted his head, “Men do not hate you. Wear your cloaks and conceal your fair features. There should be no issue and we might save a couple days.”

“I do not fear Men in the least, but if we are discovered, I do not wish to bring enemies upon them. There are far too many eyes in those parts,” Aldaraen said decidedly, and he rose, striding towards his family.

“He is far too careful,” Gandalf muttered, leaning closer to his two companions, “We need get to Mirkwood with all haste. What if we split from the group?”

“No, you fool,” Saruman shook his head, “What if they need us? And what if the Wood-Elves take unkindly to us, as they probably will, after what happened with other strangers in their Realm, who turned bloodthirsty.”

Gandalf sighed heavily and rested on his back again, muttering, “We do not appear bloodthirsty.”

“Neither did the Avari, my friend,” Saruman and Radagast intoned together.

~~~

~ A few days later…

The strange company had moved out into the grasslands of the Wilderlands, which was strewn with strange boulders and small streams, as Aldaraen had said, and Gandalf effectively named it a Wasteland.

They were passing the last great Mountain before the lake, Erebor, a good distance to the south, and there was a final forest of pines north of the Kingdom that Aldaraen hoped to enter. 

Aldariil stood tall on a hilltop, looking towards the final Mountain in studied awe, seeing all these things for the first time in his young life, having been born in Gwemyr.

Alinor leapt up next to him and said, “Is Arda not majestic?”

“When we finish our tutoring, we will adventure many places together,” he answered, looking at her with shining eyes, “We will travel every road, see every sight.”

“I would enjoy that very much,” Alinor touched two fingers to her heart, then to her brother’s, briefly, before looking back where their family had nearly reached them, riding the horses carefully across the rocky hill.

When she turned back towards the mountain, Aldariil was watching something with a steady fixation, and she followed his gaze.

A large, black bird with white stripes on its head, giving it the appearance of a skull, perched on a boulder, staring back at them quietly.

Alinor held her brother’s hand quickly and trotted towards their family calmly, out of the bird’s sight purposefully.

“Ada,” she put a hand on his leg when her parent’s steed passed and he stopped, looking down at her questioningly, expression already concerned, “Ada, there is a Crebain.”

“You are sure?” he frowned, but before his daughter could answer, the large bird flew circling into the sky, quietly.

Aldaraen drew an arrow immediately and fired, but it wheeled out of the way, already very far away, and Aldaraen cursed under his breath.

“Get back onto your horse with your brother. We hurry for the trees,” he said, and spurred his horse forward into a trot.

Once the company had reached level ground again, they pushed their steeds into a gallop, steering towards the last forest for many miles.

~~~

~ That evening…

The company had barely been in the forest for an hour when the sounds of pursuit reached their hearing, but the horses could go no faster.

“Do you think they were waiting for us?” Garrik asked from where he rode next to Aldaraen, but the elder Elf shook his head.

“No, but the Crebain, the Spy of Sauron, might have alerted them. They are allies with the Orcs,” he looked behind them, “These will be roaming Orcs and might not know who we are. When they get near enough, we will fight them.”

Garrik nodded.

“Faerlin,” Aldaraen said quietly, and reached past her, drawing her sword, and she stared at him in confusion, “Do not interfere.” He whistled for his daughter, who turned to look at him, and he tossed the weapon through the air. She caught its hilt and looked up at him with a bright gaze.

“What are you doing? Do not let her fight,” Faerlin hissed, “She is a She-Elf, she will be overpowered.”

“But her spirit is as strong as most Elves I know, and I saw her battle with that dragon. She is skilled,” he muttered, “She wishes to protect her family, so let her do it.”

Faerlin said nothing more.

Raebidus and the three Wizards ahead of them all drew their swords simultaneously, as if in a charge, and Aldaraen strained to see ahead in surprise, but he understood quickly.

A line of Orcs stood, blocking the path between fallen boulders and trees.

There weren’t many, to Aldaraen’s relief, and he dismounted before his horse had even stopped moving, bow drawn, and Garrik, Alinor, and the four men fell in behind him.

A few Orcs appeared from the trees, seeming winded, but their swords were drawn.

“Move out of our way or there will be battle,” Aldaraen said carefully, even though he hoped it would come to it, for they would undoubtedly win, “Step aside, Mockery of the First-Born.”

“What are members of the Eldar doing so far from their Realms?” one of the Orcs laughed, “That is indeed odd! And accompanied by Men!”

Aldaraen shrugged and prepared to fire an arrow, but with a roar, the Orcs were attacked from behind, all of them almost immediately being felled from the surprise of it. 

Aldaraen lowered his own weapon to observe with wide eyes, while the Orcs behind them fled. 

“Do not move, strangers, or we will fire,” a group of stunted Men came from the trees while the others finished with the Orcs, “The enemies of the Orc might not be an enemy to us, but you will excuse us for taking precautions in our Realm.”

“What are those?” Aldariil asked in wonder, staring at the short, bearded warriors surrounding them and drawing the horses near, “They are so—“

Aldaraen elbowed him sharply to end his words, and answered, “They are the Naugrim, my son.”

“Commonly called Dwarves, lad. I see you have not traveled far,” the Dwarf smiled at the Elfling and glanced at Faerlin, then at Aldaraen and their children, finishing, “It appears you are a family, no?”

“Yes, and the Men are our companions,” Aldaraen was grateful for the rather unhostile nature of these Dwarves, they were merely being cautious, “These Orcs beset us. We are traveling to Mirkwood.”

“What were you doing so far from home, may I ask?” the Dwarves did the best they could to peer into saddlebags, and Aldaraen kept one eye on them, hands still raised, as he addressed the Dwarf,

“I moved away from there, for it was too dark. I needed fresh air. I am now returning to be with family.” It was the truth.

The Dwarf nodded, accepting the explanation, then motioned to his soldiers to gather the Elves’ and Men’s weapons and stow them neatly on one of the horses.

“You are not in strict custody, but you will travel with us for questioning. You are a very odd group, you see, even though I do not believe you bring us harm,” the Dwarf smiled at him, “Your family will ride the horses, if they so wish, but you will walk with us.”

Aldaraen pushed away the slight irritation he felt inwardly at the delay, for the Dwarves were actually being quite reasonable, something he had not expected, and he replied, “So be it. I will follow you.”

The Dwarf, himself, seemed relieved, and he beckoned, beginning to walk away. 

The Dwarves enclosed them loosely, weapons still drawn, but they talked cheerily amongst themselves.

“Where are you taking us?” Aldaraen asked quietly, and the Dwarf glanced up at him and replied lightly,

“Erebor, laddie. To receive clearance from the King. We have slight relations with your own home in Mirkwood, but we have not grown to know each other quite well. You are the first of the Eldar that I have met, myself. Have you not heard of our Kingdom?”

“Yes, but I am afraid we might be detained longer than you expected,” Aldaraen sighed.

“Why is that?”

“Oh, you will come to find out,” Aldaraen muttered, and tucked his circlet quickly into his tunic.

~~~

~ Nightfall…

Aldaraen, his family, and the Men were held together it what seemed a small dining room, given food and drink, while the Dwarves conversed with the King or some such thing.

Aldaraen paced restlessly, talking quietly with Raebidus, Garrik, and Saruman, impatient to continue.

The door opened suddenly, making all the Elves jump, and the same Dwarf that had escorted them from the forest stood in the doorway.

“Master Elf, you are summoned now. Bring two of your companions, if you so wish, for witness to your fair treatment,” the Dwarf said, but he turned back briefly with a laugh, adding, “I have to say that, you see.”

Aldaraen offered a half-smile, then beckoned to Alinor, first, and Faerlin, second.

A small group of Dwarves were waiting patiently for them outside in the massive Hall, and Aldaraen had to pause and look up and all around him, staring in awe at the craftsmanship of the Kingdom under the mountain.

“It is astounding, is it not?” the Dwarf said after a moment, and motioned for them to continue walking, “I am amazed each time I enter these halls. Come now.”

“What is your name, Master Dwarf?” Aldaraen put a hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder when he reached him to stop him.

The Dwarf smiled up at him and said, continuing to walk, “I am Balin.”

“Thank you for your kindness and calmness of mind. Truly, I was not expecting it, for I would have been suspicious and short to strangers caught traveling in our Realm,” Aldaraen said quietly.

“You have a young family, and it is not right to frighten them. I can see you mean us no harm, as it is,” Balin answered, waving his hand, “King Thror wishes to see you to be sure, himself. He would have been quite irritated if I had let you continue on your travels without bringing you for himself to question. He is also merely curious.”

“Of course. I understand,” Aldaraen said, “I wished to thank you, is all.”

Balin winked good-naturedly at him and stopped before two massive doors, waiting for the Dwarven Guard to open them.

Alinor and Faerlin peered out from behind Aldaraen as the torchlight flooded from the doorway and Aldaraen swallowed. 

He told himself many times to remain calm.

Mirkwood had very few relations with the Dwarves of Erebor, but perhaps that might change if he performed his part well.

Or, the King of another Realm and Race might be pleased to discover that he held the Prince of another Realm and Race captive.

He hoped that the Dwarven King of Erebor was a reasonable Dwarf, although he had always heard and been taught otherwise of the Race.

Thus far, he had no reason to dislike Dwarves, it was actually his nature to be disbelieving in what he had heard of the different Races, and he hoped that the Dwarven King had no prior prejudice, himself.

“Just make your way to the throne down there. He awaits you, laddie,” Balin smiled, patting the Elf’s lower back, and, to Aldaraen’s surprise, left him and the two She-Elves alone, without Guard, to approach the King. 

A few Dwarves stood about the King, but that was all.

“Just be yourself, Melamin,” Faerlin said quietly in his ear, the sound of her gentle voice immediately making him feel more relaxed, knowing that she was at his side, “Ere' tyala ve' lle. He is only a King, as your brother, and you might well be.”

Alinor’s hand brushed his own, and, for his own family’s sake, Aldaraen knew that he must pull this off. 

“Lord Thror, King under the Mountain,” Aldaraen bowed slightly to the Dwarf when they reached him, “You have my greatest gratitude for your kindness towards my family. We were passing through the forest to the north and were assaulted by a party of Orcs. Your soldiers defeated them.”

“My advisor and friend, Balin, has told me you merely are wishing to return to your home and family in Mirkwood,” Thror said, walking down several steps until he was more level with Aldaraen, watching him closely, “Who is with you now?”

“My wife, Faerlin, and Alinor, my eldest of two—three Elflings,” Aldaraen answered, placing a hand gently on each She-Elf’s back as he mentioned them, “I have three now, as I have adopted a young Elf under my house.”

“That was kind of you,” Thror nodded, smiling, “He was the dark one, was he not?”

“Indeed, my lord,” Aldaraen replied, bowing his head again slightly.

“Your daughter’s hair is shorter than most She-Elves I have seen. Did you stumble across problems through the Wilderlands?” there was no mockery in Thror’s voice, and Aldaraen knew that he was only asking an innocent question.

Alinor lowered her head as her father answered carefully, “No, we stumbled upon some personal issues, actually, that have been quite smoothed out. Tempers run high in this family, more often than not.” He actually chuckled.

Thror joined him, coming a bit closer, and answered with a laugh, “Odd, for it seems my son’s daughter would get along quite well with your own. She liked cropped hair far more than the customary long.”

Aldaraen raised his eyebrows and followed the Dwarf’s gesture back towards the throne, where a young She-Dwarf stood with what seemed to be her brother. Her golden hair appeared to be shorter than normal.

Aldaraen couldn’t help it when the She-Dwarf rolled her eyes behind her grandfather’s back, and he burst into laughter.

He fell quiet very fast, embarrassed, but was surprised to hear the other Dwarves laughing with him.

Faerlin seemed very embarrassed, and Alinor shared an exasperated expression with the young She-Dwarf, apparently sharing in similar thoughts.

“I have never heard an Elf display happiness in such a manner before, but I am glad I could amuse you,” Thror chuckled, “You are indeed a humble fellow for your Race, are you not?”

“I would hope,” Aldaraen cleared his throat, “I was not expecting similar family troubles as the King under the Mountain and I could not help a laugh, my lord.”

“Why do you speak to me as a lowly servant or some such,” Thror laughed loudly, and Aldaraen looked up at him in surprise, sharply, “I know who you are, young Elf. You needn’t attempt to conceal it from me.”

Aldaraen stammered incoherently for a moment, but Thror continued to chuckle as if his floundering actions were cute.

“You are Aldaraen Opherion, Young Prince of Greenwood the Great. The one that words have spread as kind and gentle-natured,” Thror bowed slightly to him now, “You are King Thranduil’s wee baby brother, no?”

Aldaraen groaned and looked up briefly before replying, “You are correct. And also his lesser in royal and mental aptitude, no doubt. I am indeed his…wee baby brother.”

“Where is your crown, laddie?”

“Here,” Aldaraen knew the Dwarf had 100’s of years on him, and he couldn’t help feeling lectured as if by a grandparent, or Yaeran. He placed his circlet over his head and sighed.

“I didn’t wish for you to know of my identity, for I believed you might hold my family and I against our will. I am in a hurry to return home, for I believe we are being watched,” he said.

“Of course. I would not hold you against your will,” Thror motioned with his hand, “I am pleased that I have finally met a Prince of Mirkwood, and it has been the one of which the stories have fascinated me. You may leave as you wish, although I hope we might get to know one another better in the future and, perhaps, our relations with your Realm might improve.”

“I would like that, as well,” Aldaraen felt greatly relieved, “I’m sorry that I must depart in such a rush. Perhaps you might visit our Realm, at some time, when the darkness has somewhat abated. The past years have been very hard.”

“Ah. I give no thought to giant spiders and things of the like. I might enjoy helping my neighbors route them from their lands,” Thror chuckled, “I do not wish to grow so soft in these times of peace.”

Aldaraen smiled.

He liked the Dwarves.

“Well, I’ll see what I can do, then. My brother has never met one of your kind, either. He might be fascinated,” Aldaraen bowed again and finished, “My deepest gratitude belongs to you, Lord Thror, and I hope that our paths might cross again.”

“Before you depart, laddie, there is one thing you must do,” Thror said quickly, and Aldaraen paused, “Wait there.”

The King retreated back up the stairs and disappeared briefly behind his throne.

“If you accept these terms,” his voice called from the small distance, “Then I will give you a personal Guard to accompany you to our borders. Well, I probably would, anyway, but I would be greatly pleased if you accepted my offer.” Thror reappeared and approached the Elves once more, grinning.

“What are your…terms?” Aldaraen asked carefully. He was long out of practice with the ways of royal bartering.

“They are simple,” Thror motioned to the two She-Elves, who extended their slender hands hesitantly, and he placed a delicately crafted necklace in each of their hands, “That you might accept this gift as a remembrance of our quickly founded friendship, young Aldaraen. You have swiftly gained my respect. You are the greatest Elf I have ever met, from your humble heart, alone.”

Aldaraen looked at Thror in surprise, then down at the necklace, which Faerlin held up in awe.

“The emeralds match their eyes, I thought,” Thror winked at Aldaraen good-naturedly, “I believe our Peoples might make good trade with one another. I look forward to hearing from you again. Or your brother. Whoever runs things in Mirkwood.”

Aldaraen was still shocked, but he bowed again and replied, “I loathe that I have naught to give in return.”

“Just your friendship, laddie,” Thror answered, clapping him on the shoulder, and Aldaraen pressed his lips together. It hurt worse than it looked. “I always thought I might find you more reasonable than your brother. You have a true heart.”

“I believe you might be right. About my brother, that is. He was always a little pushy, I shall say,” Aldaraen laughed, then extended his hand from his chest and was pleased when the Dwarf returned the Elven motion respectfully, “Our paths will indeed cross again, Thror.”

~~~

~ Later that night…

“Safe travels, Master Elf and companions!” Balin called as he turned his Mountain Goat to follow his companions back towards the road to Erebor, “You should be home by tomorrow night if you ride hard on the morrow.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” Aldaraen called in answer, having honestly enjoyed the companionship of the Dwarves on the long ride to the mouth of the Forest River, “I believe the worst is behind us.”

“Few enemies dare challenge a band of the Dwarven Guard,” Balin laughed, “You are nearly to the outskirts of your forests and I don’t think you’ll find much danger there. Farewell!”

The rest of Aldaraen’s company waved goodbye to the Dwarves as their goats bounded away, making nearly swifter time than a galloping horse.

“See. Dwarves are not all that horrible,” Gandalf smiled to his companions, and Aldaraen assumed it was based from a conversation he had not been privy to.

“We’ll find a sheltered place, which should be simple enough, and rest for the night. Tomorrow will be a long ride, but the scenery will improve. I think this side of our Realm is particularly fair, since the darkness brought along by the Avari and their followers has not reached so far,” he said, crossing his legs and sitting more comfortably on his mount as they paused, “I only worry for the Guard’s initial reactions when they see Garrik and the Men of our company.”

“Wizards,” the three Istari said simultaneously.

“Wizards,” Aldaraen nodded towards them, “We will take this slowly, for I do not wish to startle anyone. They are probably very touchy, these days. We will undoubtedly run into Rangers or the Guard.”

“I thought we left the Palace in peace?” Alinor tilted her head, but her father shrugged, responding, 

“Tensions are still high. I know that I am not the only one who believed that not every one of our Enemy’s slaves left our Forest.” He turned and began offering advice on behavior to the strangers of Mirkwood.

“Your hair is darkening swiftly,” Faerlin said quietly to her daughter, and she pursed her lips, “I wish that you did not act so rashly. You will have to explain your appearance to many.”

Alinor felt ashamed again and she replied, offering a crooked grin, “I was idiotic, then. But I find I rather like the more golden color than nearly white.”

Faerlin’s expression remained disappointed for a moment, but she gave her daughter a small, humored smile, shaking her head, before turning away to check on her son.

“Mama, will you take up your Officer position with the Rangers again?” Aldariil’s question drew Alinor’s attention, and she listened.

“Probably not. I have grown too soft in motherhood,” she laughed, “We will see what happens when we get to it. They should have an entire new generation of soldiers, however. We have been absent long.”

Alinor felt a tinge of jealously, having never been able to take place in a full role as a Warrior of Mirkwood, serving under her uncle. She wondered if her friends in the past had accomplished all of their own dreams and goals. The thought of meeting them again, so many years past, and grown into an adult, made her stomach twist in nervous excitement. 

She daydreamed on the matter, thinking of what she would say, as the company started forward again, searching for a safe place to spend the night.

~~~


	14. Heirs~Chapter 13

“Thran’!”

Thranduil paused in his lesson with Nadhir, who was nearly to his shoulder now, having grown quickly in the past years. The young Avari still had a round, soft face, though, and Thranduil found himself not actually wishing to see the young Elf grow up.

He had decided to aid in the Elfling’s training and lessons, giving him a good excuse to dress rather dirtily and get some exercise.

Thranduil was staring about the courtyard intently for whoever had called his name. He could’ve sworn that it was his wife’s voice that had interrupted his lesson with Nadhir.

“Up here, silly.”

Thranduil looked up in surprise, but his wife was merely standing on the balcony above him, having returned from her ride in the Forest, it seemed, for she was still in her dark green and brown uniform.

“What is it?” he asked, smiling up at her, “You’ve interrupted Nadhir’s training.”

“It’s okay, my lady!” Nadhir exclaimed, smiling and waving at her, “Is Endel home with you?”

“She is, Nadhir,” Wharyn answered, then looked back at her husband and added, “Atsaa amin.”

“What?” Thranduil raised his eyebrows at her, but she leapt lightly over the railing.

He dropped his sword with a ‘clang’, shocked, and caught her easily in his arms, staring at her when she wrapped her arms about his neck and hugged him happily. 

“What are you doing?” he genuinely felt slightly irritated, if not embarrassed, but she said quietly in his ear,

“I have something to tell you.”

Thranduil held her blue gaze for a moment, but he could see that it was good news.

“Nadhir, let’s call it a day. Go find your sister, if you so wish,” Thranduil set his wife on her feet and beckoned to the Elfling, “Wharyn has something important to share with me.”

“Alright,” Nadhir bowed to them both before trotting away happily, calling Endel’s name.

“Tell me,” Thranduil tapped Wharyn’s shoulder, and she moved her gaze from Nadhir’s retreating form and grasped his hand, pulling him forward,

“I’ll tell you as we walk,” she answered, excitement still bubbling off of her, and Thranduil couldn’t help feel slightly giddy. It was contagious, “I must find our son, as well.”

“Has Legolas done something?” Thranduil asked, but Wharyn shook her head, replying,

“Of course not. He is a good Elf, and I know you’re just teasing him. I am going to tell him too, for he shall be joyous.”

~~~

Legolas let out a short shout of surprise and dropped the book he was examining when someone grabbed his waist from behind to scare him.

“Ada,” he looked at him exasperatingly, but paused when he saw his father’s expression. “What has come over you?” he finished, bending down to pick up the book, but his mother answered, 

“He is more than just happy, Melamin. For once, he forgets his duties.”

“What happened?” Legolas looked at Thranduil suspiciously, whose eyes were shining very brightly and he wore an unmatched smile across his face.

“You will not believe it, Melamin,” Thranduil glanced at Wharyn, who giggled, pleased that she was allowed to deliver the news, and she said,

“You are to be an elder brother, my little Leaf, as you have always wished.”

Legolas was very quiet, and his parents smiled when his eyes grew very wide, and he said, “You are not jesting with me.”

“Do you really think your mother and I would get together and plot to trick you in such a manner,” Thranduil held out his hands sincerely, smiling, “It is true, Legolas. Your mother is with child.”

Legolas’ mouth remained open for a few good, long seconds, then he laughed loudly and flung himself at both his parents, embracing them together tightly.

“Are you happy, Legolas?” Wharyn laughed and kissed her son’s head as he exclaimed,

“Of course, I am! I’m going to be a brother, I’m going to teach them everything I know— “

“The good things, son,” Thranduil smiled down at him.

“How to ride, how to shoot, how to—“

“Let us go tell Yaeran and Eardaneth. They deserve to know next,” Wharyn said to Thranduil as Legolas seemed to become lost in his own planning.

“Yes, Eardaneth’s been teasing me on the matter for far too long,” Thranduil smiled down at her and took her hand as he finished, “Typically, he has only one Elfling of his own. He was just blessed with twins.”

“You and your reasoning,” Wharyn rolled her eyes, but she kissed his hand affectionately as they walked quickly down the corridor, “You are the most stubborn Elf I have ever met.”

~  A few weeks later…

“Two to zero, son,” Thranduil kept the wooden staff pressed against his son’s heaving chest, “I know you have been trained better than this. Concentrate.”

Legolas blew sweat from his nose and rose to his feet again, crouching defensively before his father.

“Auta,” Thranduil said shortly to initiate, and his son lashed out at him, landing a few good blows, but he easily entered an open spot and lifted his grown Elfling effortlessly, slamming him onto his back on the ground.

“Three…to zero,” Thranduil smiled down at him challengingly, “I’ve seen you fight. Don’t leave so many open places and you will be nearly invincible.”

Legolas grappled with him again for a bit longer, but he ended up on his back, as before.  
“Four…and zero.”

Legolas glared up at his father in frustration, then sprung at him, concentrating hard, and to his shock, managed to force his father onto his knees.

“Four to one,” he smirked proudly, and when his father tried to rise, he wrestled him onto his back and pinned him there.

“Four to two.”

Thranduil smiled at him calmly when he stood again, brushing dirt from his breeches, and said, “Well done. But…” he rushed at his son and in less than four movements, had him on his back again, “…I was not really trying my hardest.”

Legolas remained on his back, staring up in surprise at his parent, catching his breath.

“Where did you learn to fight so well, Ada?” he asked, at last.

“I have a lifetime of experience on you, Melamin,” Thranduil extended his hand from his heart as he prepared to get back into stance, “But you are growing stronger with each year, and I will not let your training cease until I am quite satisfied that your skills are perfected.”

Legolas felt a sense of gratitude for the care of his father, but before he could voice his emotion, someone grasped his arm from behind and twisted it, knocking him to the ground... again.

He saw a flash of raven black hair and creamy skin, and knew it to be Cardhin.

The young Avari was so swift that he even caught Thranduil off guard, spinning on his toe and landing a powerful blow to the King’s chest. He twisted him to the ground and held a dagger to his throat.

This all happened in less than five seconds, and Legolas was greatly shocked.

So was his father, he could see, but he was also looking at the Avari with a strange, careful expression.

“What are you doing?” he asked evenly, and Cardhin, who had the look of an animal in his eyes, suddenly broke into a relaxed grin and sat back on his heels, still over Thranduil.

“I overheard you speaking with the Prince. I wished to see if you both were so alert as you might have thought,” Cardhin answered lightly.

“Well, you did superb in your surprise and stealth,” Thranduil still sounded restrained, and Legolas knew very well why, “Now I think it best, young Elf, if you were to remove yourself from me.”

Cardhin stood and extended his pale hand.

There was an obvious pause, then the King took the Avari’s hand and allowed him to pull him to his feet.

“You have absorbed your short training completely, I see,” Thranduil said, and Cardhin flipped his dagger once before replying,

“Yes, I have. What little I am offered.”

His endless, black gaze was unreadable, almost disturbing, and Legolas hoped that he was merely not being racist against the Elf’s coloring. It truly didn’t look right, at the moment. 

“You are forbidden to carry weapons of any sort,” Thranduil motioned to the dagger.

“It is for the kitchen. I am aiding them tonight. It is my turn, you see,” Cardhin turned and began walking away, finishing, “I will see you this evening, my lords.”

“Ada, he wielded that dagger against the King,” Legolas moved quickly to his father’s side so that he may speak quietly, “He could’ve killed you.”

“I…have many thoughts, at the moment. I need counsel. My heart is troubled again,” Thranduil frowned and he rubbed his forehead, “I’m going to go wash. Enjoy the rest of the afternoon, Legolas. I leave you, now.”

“Thank you for the practice, Ada,” Legolas called behind him, sadness creeping upon him, “I enjoy my time with you, for it has dwindled considerably.”

“Thank you, son,” Thranduil waved once at him, absently, and turned his back, thinking on what had just transpired.

Legolas watched him depart forlornly before gathering their equipment to store it once more.

~~~

“Endel and Cardhin are young, yes, but they are grown,” Thranduil sat on his bed and looked across at Yaeran and Eardaneth, who seemed quite at home speaking with the young King this way, “I never foresaw them staying here for…forever.”

“Where else would they go?” Eardaneth genuinely sounded hurt, and Thranduil knew it was for the bond the Elf had developed with young Nadhir and Ruvven, the entire family, really. 

As all of them had.

“I would feel terribly to send them away, but my heart felt a darkness this evening that it has not for many years. Cardhin holds the same ill aura that I sensed the very day we met the Avari family. He is the only one who makes me feel this way, and I do not like it. He seems to be about to explode in some dreadful way,” Thranduil lay back limply and stared in frustration at the ceiling, “I know not what to do.”

“I feel the same way, concerning young Cardhin,” Yaeran said slowly, “Perhaps we should send him away with a note, to some of establishment—“

“You cannot separate siblings in that manner,” Eardaneth said quickly, “That might spawn a seed of anger and hate towards you.”

“Cardhin is dangerous,” Yaeran looked at his brother, and then Thranduil, “I am uneasy when he is about. I do not like the way he watches me, or the royal family.”

“He is old enough to remember the slaughter of his family beside the river,” Eardaneth’s voice held an edge to it that Thranduil had not heard used against his brother before, “Perhaps he would be different if—“

“Then why is Endel the sweet young She-Elf that she is, pure of heart and mind,” Yaeran turned a look of ice on his younger, yet taller brother, “She has seen the Avari’s mistake, yet her brother’s mind is clouded to me. He needs to leave, SeaGaze. Even before he taints his young brothers’ minds.”

“Nadhir and Ruvven would never turn against us in such a manner,” Eardaneth clenched his hands once, but relaxed them again, “You cannot separate them. They love each other.”

“Eardaneth, no matter how much time and effort you have put into them, Nadhir and Ruvven are not your sons. I know that you love them in your heart, but if Cardhin poses a threat, would you not wish to remove him from those two precious Elflings?”

“They would not understand his leaving and they would see us as they have been taught in the past- As monsters and murderers of families.”

Yaeran opened his mouth to continue the argument, but Thranduil stood up quickly and exclaimed, “Enough already! Will you two, please, just be quiet!”

Yaeran glanced at him in surprise, but Eardaneth took a deep breath and looked calmly at Thranduil.

“He may just be troubled, as you both can admit to,” Thranduil dropped his circlet on the bed wearily and crossed his arms behind his head, “Let us observe him closely and we discuss this matter again later. Truly, it is not of such great importance.”

“I must go feed Ruvven,” Eardaneth looked angrily at Yaeran as he departed, and the elder Elf sighed, sitting in a chair as Thranduil flopped onto the bed again.

“I only act this manner in front of you because you have known and raised me since Elflinghood,” the King propped his elbows and rested his chin in his hands, “I am tired, is all.” He rolled the circlet with his finger and then let it fall from the bed lazily, not even caring. He was almost happy to see it go.

“Do you have wine?”

Thranduil was on his back and he looked at his former mentor, upside-down, in surprise. He rolled onto his stomach again and replied, “Why? Are you not feeling well?”

“I need a glass,” Yaeran slumped slightly and put his face in his hands.

Thranduil had never seen Yaeran frazzled in this manner before, and he rolled from bed quickly, trotting to a table.

“I’ve become quite attached to the drink, myself. It eases some of the worries of ruling, I might describe shortly. I had what is missing from the flask before I summoned you and Eardaneth,” he took a long drink from the flask, and was pleased when Yaeran actually laughed quietly at him. He extended it to him and coughed once before adding, “The rest is yours, m’lord.”

Thranduil retreated to the bed again. He felt very good, having exercised hard with his son, and the wine made him feel warm and relaxed.

“What is bothering you so?” he asked Yaeran, and was surprised to see that the elder Elf had already finished the rest of the wine.

“Many things. My brother’s family is chief amongst them.”

“Ah, does it also have to do with the Avari family?”

“In ways that you do not know, yes,” Yaeran muttered, playing with the flask on the table beside him.

“Care to share?” Thranduil rolled onto his back again, then laughed shortly, “Ha. It rhymes.”

“I’m afraid that my brother’s son…” Yaeran’s voice faded, then he finished, “I just love him and his sons very much. I do not wish to see them hurt. The presence of these Avari has changed many things, I’m afraid.”

“I love my brother too, but he’s gone. I never even got to see or meet his second child. And I’ll probably never, ever, ever, ever, ever see him again.”

Yaeran looked over at Thranduil with a small smile, then asked with a laugh, “Are you drunk?”

“Wharyn says it happens easily to me,” Thranduil replied, “Why?”

“No reason,” Yaeran stood and took the flask with him, “I’ll refill your bottle and bring it back on the morrow. You are much more likeable when you’ve had a little wine.”

Thranduil snorted a laugh and stood to walk out with Yaeran, responding, “I guess I should find Wharyn.” He tripped on his circlet that had rolled from the bed, and Yaeran lunged forward and grasped his arm.

Yaeran actually laughed loudly himself when Thranduil seemed unable to control his own, and he said to the King, “I think I’ll find her for you, and you should remain in your chambers.”

“No, no,” Thranduil finally seemed to gain control of himself, “I’m just in a very humorous mood.”

“Stay in bed, young Elf,” Yaeran began to depart with a laugh, finishing, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

~~~

~The next morning…

“Good morning.”

Endel sat up in her bed with a quiet squeal, muffled, for a hand covered her mouth gently, and she looked up angrily at Earathran.

His beautiful auburn hair was pulled back, and he was fully dressed for a mission, rosy cheeked.

“What are doing in here?” she hissed, holding the blankets up to her neck, “This is the King and Queen’s chambers.”

“Why did you move here?”

“To care for the Queen during her pregnancy,” Endel frowned at him, “I’m flattered that you took time to get in here, but you should leave… How did you manage to get in here?”

Earathran motioned to her open window and balcony, where the fiery orange sunrise was beginning to filter through the leaves. “It was simple, really. I just returned from an early morning scout routine, in case you’re wondering on my uniform. We Elves must keep the ladies of Mirkwood safe.”

“Get out of here, JayGaze,” Endel patted at him with her hand, although she couldn’t help a smile. He was irresistibly charming, in an innocent and irritating way, simultaneously.

“I’m sorry I awoke you. I’ve been up so much longer than you, I must seem quite loud,” Earathran tilted his head at her teasingly, “Are you cross with me?”

“Yes, Earathran. I’ll find you later, now—“

“I have duties all day today. I’m a full Warrior now, a Sergeant for a few weeks yet,” Earathran looked at her morosely, “I only have the ends of the weeks off, Melamin.”

“I wish to talk with you more on your new duties. Now, I’m still cross with you,” Endel rolled her eyes good-naturedly, “Go find your Captain, before he finds you.”

Earathran leaned forward and pressed his lips to her own in a long kiss, pushing something into her hand, murmuring, “I’ll leave you then, but I wished to bid you good morning before I departed again. Amin mela lle. I love you, BrightRaven. You are ever on my mind and heart.”

“That makes everything better,” Endel returned the kiss shortly, then placed another on his cheek before he backed away, and she looked down at the flawless white flower in her hand, “What is this?”

“It made me think of you this morning. It has just blossomed,” he pressed his hand to his heart and extended it to her, “I will see you at supper, most likely.”

Endel caught his fingers and kissed them quickly, saying, “Have a good day, Melamin.”

She watched him hop from the balcony onto a limb and slide down towards the ground smoothly.

Endel had long since accepted the young Silvan Elf’s pledge of love, and she had given him her own. She wore his silver ring of promise on a chain about her neck, concealed. He did the same.

They were to leave in the next months ahead for Eregion, a peaceful land close to the Misty Mountains, and excitement made her heart feel as if it were to explode each time she thought about it.

She would miss the relationships she had formed here in Mirkwood, but the thought of raising a family with Earathran, whom she loved deeply, under the blue sky and endless sunlight, made her nearly light-headed.

She could not wait.

Open fields, soft grass, quiet rivers, songbirds, the ocean…

She sighed and rose, going to check on Wharyn, hoping she was awake.

She needed something to take her mind off of Eregion and Earathran.

~~~

Ruvven was a little past Eardaneth’s knees when the toddler bounced up to him.

“I’m almost done, love,” he said to him, and the Elfling answered,

“May I help you?”

“Take this to your brother. He is studying already,” Eardaneth smiled at Ruvven and handed him bread and milk, “Do not startle him.”

Ruvven took the glass carefully and held it with both hands, allowing Eardaneth to tuck the bread under his chin.

Eardaneth had just set Ruvven on his hip a few minutes later, handing him a glass of milk, so that he could continue tidying his things, when Yaeran opened his chamber door quickly.

“You couldn’t announce yourself in some manner?” Eardaneth looked at him in irritation, wiping milk from Ruvven’s upper lip, “You startled me.”

“I’m sorry. Where is Earathran? I was supposed to take him—“

“Why are you asking me? He is a grown Elf and has not lived under my roof for years,” Eardaneth set Ruvven on the ground, but the Elfling remained close to his legs, looking curiously at Yaeran.

“Good morning, young Ruvven. And Nadhir,” Yaeran acknowledged the second Avari Elfling when he emerged from an adjacent room, and the young Elf bowed politely.

“We have fallen behind the rest of the scouting party,” Yaeran continued to Eardaneth, “I haven’t been able to find him for nigh 30 minutes. I thought maybe he was with you.”

“Do not be so anxious. What do you think he could be doing?” Eardaneth smiled quirkily at him, “Do you want some milk or bread?”

Yaeran was looking at him oddly, a ‘don’t-you-know’, sort of look, and Eardaneth paused.

“I do not keep such close track on my grown sons, Yaeran. They will do as they might,” Eardaneth shrugged dismissively, “You act as if he were some criminal.”

“I am only concerned for him,” Yaeran answered quietly, “I do not wish to see him hurt.”

“Besides Cardhin, who we all know is the only violently inclined Elf in Mirkwood, how else would Earathran come to harm? He is clever, brother, and he will not come to harm within these walls, at least.”

Yaeran nodded slowly, then replied, “You are right. Hopefully he will catch us. I bid you a good morning, Eardaneth.”

“I, as well,” Eardaneth turned back to his work, glad he had the morning off. 

Yaeran’s behavior over his son bothered him for only a few minutes more, but he quickly forgot the matter, preparing to begin Ruvven’s lessons.

~~~


	15. Heirs~Chapter 14

The scouting company was waiting across the bridge for Yaeran, as he was the Captain of the group, and he hailed them.

He was effectively surprised when he saw Thranduil talking closely with a group of young Guard, whose gazes betrayed their awe at the attention of their King.

Thranduil met his gaze and he ended his discussion, approaching the much older Elf with a smile.

“It is yet early in the morning. Are you sober?” Yaeran chuckled as he greeted him.

“I don’t remember much of what happened last night, actually, but I slept very good. I have not, of recent,” Thranduil answered, clasping Yaeran’s hand gently in greeting.

“How is your wife?”

“Beautiful, as usual,” Thranduil rolled his shoulders in a stretch, “She is well, Yaeran, thank you for asking. She thought it would be well for me to get into the Forest today.”

“She is probably right,” Yaeran looked past the King’s shoulder and saw Earathran trot into their group, bright blue gaze shining, ready for his second trip.

“Sergeant JayGaze, where were you?” he approached the young Elf, and Earathran looked at him innocently, responding,

“Getting a drink, Captain.”

Yaeran noticed the unmistakable flush to the young Elf’s cheeks and the brightness to his gaze, and he recognized the look of a love-struck. 

Darnuigar, his brother, had appeared exactly the same way.

“Are you quite sure, JayGaze?”

“Yes, Uncle,” Earathran grinned at him, and practically bounced past him towards Thranduil.

Earathran would take his own course and his heart was not dark, Yaeran knew, but there was reason for suspicion. 

Earathran had been acting quite strangely in the past months. In fact, he had seemed almost loath to accept his new title of Sergeant, and he was becoming harder to keep track of.

Yaeran had his own ideas at what the young Silvan Elf was up to, but he would never voice them.

“We will be making a loop towards the waterfall,” Yaeran voiced loudly to the gathered Elves, “Since the majority of you are the newest members of the Guard, this is strictly routine. Nothing out of the ordinary, no dangers or combat.”  
The young Guard saluted him as he walked past to take the lead, beckoning for Thranduil to join him.

Earathran and the only other Sergeant present flanked the party.

“Have you discovered the gender of your child?” Yaeran kept the conversation quiet, comfortable to break regulations of strictly professional communication with Thranduil. 

The Elf was as a son to him.

“Yes. With Legolas, we opted to keep him a surprise, but Wharyn and I could not help it being determined yesterday,” Thranduil glanced at Yaeran with smiling eyes, “It is a She-Elf.”

“That is wonderful,” Yaeran nudged the King’s shoulder slightly, “Have you told Legolas?”

“Yes, he is ecstatic, of course,” Thranduil said, “He helped in choosing a name for her, already.”

“And that would be..?”

“Ledhiel,” Thranduil breathed the word gently and, Yaeran thought, already lovingly.

“Legolas and his young sister Ledhiel,” Yaeran let the names roll off of his tongue experimentally, “Legolas and Ledhiel. Prince and Princess of Mirkwood. She is well named.”

Thranduil nodded absently.

Yaeran examined his profile for a moment, allowing himself to swim back into memories of the young King’s youth, and he smiled despite himself. His nose curved up ever so slightly at the tip, just as his brother’s.

Yaeran had been disappointed when Alinor’s 100th year had come and gone long ago and Aldaraen had failed to keep his promise to his brother. 

When the year had passed, the hurt had been plain in not just the elder brother’s eyes, but also in his entire manner, and Yaeran looked forward to every day, hoping to see Aldaraen ride through the Stable Gate as he so often had done in the past.

“Why do I not hear from my brother? He instructed me specifically not to initiate a message to him, for safety reasons, of course,” Thranduil’s sudden statement surprised Yaeran, as if he had read his thoughts.

“I have traveled there twice. The way is rough, and it might well be that his messages are intercepted,” Yaeran answered, “He has expressed concern to me in the past that he did not want any ally of our Enemy to discover where his family lives.”

“I miss him. I wonder if his health has bettered,” Thranduil said, then pressed his lips together and hopped neatly up a pile of boulders.

~

When the Elves turned from the waterfall and prepared to make their way back towards the faint Forest path, they were all shocked to find themselves directly before a small group of Avari.

At first, Yaeran took it to be Cardhin and his siblings, but he quickly realized the greater age of the small group before him, and he drew his bow, even as the rest of the company did.

The Avari were obviously horrified to see them, and they dropped to their knees, arms in the air.

“What are you doing in this Forest?”

Yaeran was impressed with Thranduil’s calm demeanor. His time with the young Avari Elflings had obviously worked much good on his disposition.

“We were…We were…” the eldest of the group began, but the only She-Elf interrupted, saying quickly,

“We were chased from our People, my lord. We are fleeing persecution, for we follow not the Dark Lord. We were hoping to pass west.”

“Just as the Endel’s family,” Thranduil muttered to Yaeran as the company lowered their weapons to a more relaxed position.

“Who are you?” Thranduil said to the Avari.

“I am Ardryll. This is my wife, Vilnar. My four sons, Malgath, Mardeim, Marikoth, and Marlevar,” the obvious father replied, his voice trembling, then he added desperately, “Please, do not harm them! We will do whatever you command, my lord!”

They did not seem at a loss for words, as the Elfling’s family had been, as if forgetting a speech…

A flash of unease passed over Thranduil’s face, Yaeran saw, and there was a long pause before he said, “We will not harm your family, but why is it that there are so many of your People found wandering my Realm?”

“There are many of us who are driven away, my lord, for the Dark Magic slowly is lifting from those of us who were innocent of heart,” Ardryll answered, “When we were removed from the dark places of our Enemy within this Forest, the spells laid across us were weakened—“

Thranduil ended his stuttering explanation with a wave of his hand, saying, “We are taking you into custody. Perhaps for your own good, for giant Weavers, Wargs, and other fell things run free through the Wood close to nightfall.”

“Thank you, my lord,” the father and mother said simultaneously, the relieved and indebted expressions on their pale faces painfully honest.

This family appeared different from the Elfling’s family when they had been discovered.   
These particular Elves seemed starved and frightened, staring about themselves in horror as if they had no recognition of the place, and they were weaponless. They truly seemed to be a family driven away in haste.  

A thought began forming in the back of Yaeran’s mind that he could not quite capture yet.

The Guard bound the Avari family gently, not using excessive force, and Yaeran was glad for the empathy of the youth.

“I would say this routine is quite finished,” Yaeran motioned to the young Guard and began leading the way back towards the Palace, “It was not so uneventful as I described.”

“Why is it that when I join the Guard, and you are here with me, that we discover the strangest of things?” Thranduil grinned at Yaeran when he fell in beside him once more, “You are quite a charm, of sorts, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps it is you, my young friend,” Yaeran answered with a small smile, “Strange things seem to follow you about, and the words of the Lady Galadriel to your brother seem to become ever more true with each passing year.”

He was glad Thranduil did not ask for explanation, for the young King knew precisely on what he speaking of.

~~~

Yaeran stood in the corridor of the dungeon cells, waiting patiently for Earathran, Darnuigar, and Minerva to finish their rounds, distributing items as they had to the Avari Elflings. 

“You have beautiful eyes,” he heard one of the younger Avari say in fascination to Minerva, and Yaeran felt tense, holding his breath, until Darnuigar said lightly,

“Yes, she does, doesn’t she?” The Silvan Elf touched her face affectionately with one hand as he shut a cell door.

“I do not mean that in any other way except that the beauty of the Silvan Elves truly is as fair as gems, as we have always heard. We have never seen one of your People before,” the same young Avari said. Although Yaeran could see nothing, he could hear clearly from where he stood.

There was a long pause, and Earathran replied evenly, “The Avari are just as beautiful, lad. Your dark hair and eyes are as the most beautiful of black diamonds.”

“You…think that..?” the mother sounded speculative, but Earathran answered quickly, his voice slightly more tight,

“Yes. I hold no hate or bias against the Avari. We are all of Elven blood, as I see it.”

Yaeran smiled grimly.

The ignorance of youth.

~~~

Most of the Elves took their supper in the Gardens, sitting and laughing along the bank of the stream, and Yaeran was pleased when Wharyn and Thranduil joined him with their son. Endel was with them, as well, as she usually was. 

She was almost undyingly loyal.

They were speaking on the arrival of their daughter, and Yaeran seemed to be the only one who noticed Cardhin approach his sister from behind and grab her arm once, roughly, before retreating quietly again.

Endel seemed troubled, but she rose and followed him.

Yaeran felt panic and he waited until the She-Elf had walked into the trees after her brother to stand abruptly.

“Where are you going?” Wharyn looked at him and smiled.

“I’ll be back shortly, WindBorn. I will return,” Yaeran bowed to them both, then paused and pointed at Thranduil, finishing, “Stay here. I mean it.”

Thranduil blinked sullenly at him, but Yaeran knew he would comply.

It didn’t take much to find the two young Avari, for their voices were slightly raised from where they were arguing in a small copse of trees.

“Why are Ardryll and his family here?” Cardhin hissed, but his sister only shook her head furiously, replying,

“I know not. I haven’t been able to see them.”

“They were supposed to be dead,” Cardhin looked very angry, “They are traitors.”

“Aren’t we all, Cardhin?” Endel said quietly, her black gaze gentle, “They must’ve escaped.”

“They are thrice blessed, then, to escape his wrath,” Cardhin snapped, “But you are all traitors, and I am ashamed to call you my blood-kin. How could you find love or compassion towards these Silvan Elves? How can you wish to stay here? We all swore to an oath.”

“Because they are not monsters. It seems the darkness had not muddled Nadhir’s, Ruvven’s, and my own mind so much as it has yours. I made no oath. I was forced into one, and I was believed to be capable of murder. Everything was going as planned until they treated us with kindness, Cardhin. They are not as he says. He did not think—“

Cardhin grabbed her arm to silence her and he stared towards the place where Yaeran stood, his eyes appearing as empty pools of blackness in his pale face, thanks to the shadows of nightfall.

“You must return to them, before they miss their little Avari pet,” Cardhin curled his lip at her, “I thought you were stronger than this. You leave me to complete this on my own. I have already accomplished the half of it. You will be slayed, my weak sister, unless you rise to the task. He will pardon you, for he favors you, and desires you for his own.”

“You are wrong, Cardhin. You are the weak one. If you force It out, It will stay out,” Endel’s voice held disgust, “I would rather die before submitting myself to that monster. He is no Avari. He is a monster.” She turned on her heel and began walking quickly back towards Yaeran. 

He set his teeth and pressed against one of the trees silently as she passed, then looked back for Cardhin, but he was gone.

~

“My lord and lady, you must excuse me,” Endel bowed to the King and Queen, concealing her troubled heart well, Yaeran thought, “I feel ill and will join the Lady Wharyn in her chamber tonight to check on her health.”

“Do you need medicine, Melamin?” Wharyn touched her hand worriedly, “You have seemed sick all this evening.”

“I am tired,” Endel kissed her cheek and backed away, “Enjoy this lovely night.”  
Thranduil and Wharyn both nodded at her, although they both seemed slightly worried.

When Endel was out of sight, she allowed her frightened tears to get the best of her and she pressed her forehead against a tree, covering her face with her hands. She jumped, gasping, when a hand held her wrist gently, but she was more than relieved to recognize Earathran’s worried face.

“What is the matter with you?” he asked gently, blue eyes wide, and he held her securely when she pressed against him. She felt protected, for once, in his strong arms, and embarrassment quickly caught up to her.

“I’m sorry, Ear’. I’m not…feeling right. I had a hard day,” she said against his chest, and she tried to put her brother from her mind, as she so often had to do now, “Sometimes crying is the best way to release frustration.”

He was still looking at her sadly when he answered softly, “You are not telling me everything.”

Endel swallowed and replied, “No. That is the truth. I had a very hard day.”

“Do you know the Avari we took into custody?” 

The sudden steer of topics caught her off guard, and Endel answered carefully, “Yes. They resisted our leader and they must’ve been driven away, at last.”

“Why do you not tell us anything you know so that we might help the rest of your People? I do not understand it. If you are fully with us, then you should speak to us of such matters,” Earathran was relieved when the trembling of her arms seemed to be subsiding, “Something frightens you into silence. I am not a fool, even for all of my quick actions.”

“We should not be worrying about it. We are departing within the next months for better lands,” Endel answered quietly.

“If you know something, you could save lives,” Earathran struck a chord, for she met his gaze quickly, “Unless if by speaking, you endanger the life of yourself, or your siblings.”

“Hush, Melamin,” she said, placing her fingers over his mouth, “If you continue to speak, you will begin many trails and accusations.”

“I do not understand,” Earathran shook his head slightly, “But if you are sure of what you are doing, then I trust you.”

“I trust you, as well,” Endel replied, “I have given my heart to you.”

“Do you feel better? It frightens me to find you in tears,” he smiled as she began kissing him, “I know you are trying to shut me up.”

“I am better,” she replied quietly, “Just the thought of departing for Eregion relieves me greatly.”

“I cannot wait. Perhaps I have an impatient heart, but this, by far, has been the hardest thing to anticipate,” Earathran took a deep breath before sitting where he was, drawing Endel with him, “I’m sorry, I’ve just been on my feet all day.”

“You’re still in uniform,” Endel noticed, and drew his sword from his belt, holding it experimentally, “Why?” 

“Tomorrow is my day off. They push Sergeants quite hard, for some reason, all other days,” Earathran answered, moving her hands and arms until she held the new, awkward weapon correctly, “I didn’t wish to take my promotion because we are departing so soon.”

“It only keeps you away more,” Endel leveled the blade at him playfully and he smiled teasingly, replying,

“It just keeps my mind busy from other things, you see. It is for the best, perhaps. It will make my departure with you all the more sweet,” he took the weapon from her and flipped the hilt into his own hand, running a finger along the sharp edge absently, “But I can wait a little longer, get things into order. I will tell my brother and parents the day before we leave. I do not wish for this to be a loud event, you may call it. I’m sure they will become…excitable.”

“I understand,” Endel said, then added curiously, “What exactly do Sergeants do that is different from the other positions?”

“Well, first of all, we take the brunt of the work, and usually serve as lookouts on missions. We are first choice for company leaders for small missions. There is too much to tell, really,” he rested the sword in his lap as he spoke, “Something interesting- We perform executions, although the past few generations of Sergeants have had to do nothing of the sort.” He laughed. “We have a specific uniform for the event, it is all black, as are the bow and arrow.”

“Do you hope to execute someone?” Endel giggled, but Earathran looked at her seriously and replied,

“No. I don’t think any of us really would enjoy or hope for it. Unless they harmed someone I love deeply.”

“Of course,” Endel nodded and stood, “I need get back to the King and Queen’s chamber. It is my duty to check Lady Wharyn’s health before she slumbers.”

Earathran stood beside her and quickly kissed her goodnight before she could depart.

“You kiss me whenever you get the chance, don’t you?” she said teasingly, and Earathran answered with a smile,

“Of course. I realize what a privilege it is, and now you are mine. I must remind you of that once in a while. Really, I must remind myself, as well. It is still perfectly unbelievable.”

Endel allowed him one more with a muffled laugh.

She loved the Silvan Elf with all of her heart, and the thought of belonging to him pleased her. 

He belonged to her, as well.

~~~

~ A few weeks later…

“I do not wish for you to accompany us,” Thranduil laughed to Yaeran as he made his way quickly towards the Stable Gate, “I am going to see if anything odd happens this time around. Determine if you are a sort of charm or not, you see.”

“You’d rather go with Eardaneth than I?” Yaeran raised his eyebrows at him, and his brother huffed at the remark, even though he knew he was jesting. 

Teasing his tall brother never grew tiresome.

“Yes. He is my old weapons and combat mentor. I do not venture into my own Realm with him enough,” Thranduil smiled at Eardaneth, who returned the expression, “He is a Captain, as well. I needed one, for we are hunting down a Warg pack that was found roaming near the river.”

“Are you saying I might be too aged for this mission?” Yaeran looked at him speculatively, but Thranduil responded quickly,

“No. But I think you will be better in over-seeing the settling of the new Avari. They do not wish to stay, they said, for they will continue west when their health has returned. I trust them, Yaeran, but I will not take risks. Observe them.”

“Be careful, young one,” Yaeran stopped in his swift walk and watched his brother walk side by side through the great doors with Thranduil, beckoning to the gathered, waiting company of Guard, Rangers, and graduated Lorien March-Wardens.

Eardaneth was better at more rough and tumble things than he, who excelled more in the academic and intellectual aspect of things, Yaeran admitted to himself. He definitely was not as young as he used to be, either.

The young King was perfecting the task of delegation quite well.


	16. Heirs~Chapter 15

Alinor woke with a start, and, for a moment, did not know where she was.

The leaves of foreign trees were rustling above her and the sounds of a slow river welcomed her ears. The smell of the Wood on the wind was familiar, and it brought many good memories.

The swiftly darkening and growing strands of her hair tickled her neck and she sat up, stretching.

An apple hit her squarely in the shoulder and she looked over at her younger brother with a smile.

“Good morning. We leave as soon as possible, Melamin. We will be at the Palace by nightfall,” Aldaraen crouched beside her on her other side and pressed a canteen into her hand. He rubbed the top of her head when he stood to depart.

“Ali’,” Aldariil pounced and sat himself next to her, saying quietly, “Do you think Menelaudh would really follow us? I miss her already, and I rather hope that she does.”

“Where would she stay, my brother? She has grown so large,” Alinor smiled sadly at him, “She would be wise to remain in the Fire-Mountain until departing to find a mate and begin her own family. Perhaps she will raise her Hatchlings, unlike any Dragon before her.”

“She flies swiftly. She might nest in the mountains of Mirkwood, no? You’ve told her of the place,” Aldariil looked at her with wide eyes, hoping for a small bit of hope, “She cannot just be forever out of our lives. She was family to us, our closest friend.”

“Who, precisely, are you speaking of?” Gandalf leaned towards them as if sharing in a secret, glancing at their parents.

“Menelaudh the FireDrake, Gentlest and Kindest of Dragons,” Alinor responded, “She was left behind in the Iron Mountains.”

“I do not believe so, Elflings,” Gandalf put his lips to one side, tapping his fingers on his staff, which he held in his lap across his folded legs, “For you see, I believed that I awoke to a nightmare in the late watches of the night.”

“What do you speak of?” Aldariil’s eyes grew very round and he adjusted himself until he faced the young Wizard.

“Either the blindest Dragon ever visited us last night, or your friend has indeed followed you,” Gandalf said, “I am rather certain it was a dragon. Black as night, eyes like blue ice that glowed in the dark.”

“Yes, yes! That is her!” Aldariil flew to his feet in excitement, “Where did she go?”

“She sniffed each one of you quite closely before going…that way,” Gandalf pointed decisively with his staff.

Aldariil bounded forward, sprinting into the trees, and Alinor followed him. Their parents didn’t see them depart, and Gandalf merely smiled after them.

After a few minutes of running, Aldariil slowed to a stop and cupped his hands about his mouth, crying, “Menelaudh! Men’! Come and greet us!”

Alinor made the calling, howling sound, but there was no response for many long seconds.

Aldariil began yelling into the trees again, but Alinor grasped his arm, a thought coming to her suddenly, and she said, “Aldariil, hush. Perhaps it was not Menelaudh, at all. Of course, there are other FireDrakes that are black with blue eyes. Let us use more caution.”

Aldariil pondered her words even though he seemed speculative, then nodded and walked forward, gaze bright.

~

“Where are your Elflings?” Faerlin asked Aldaraen playfully, strapping packs back onto one of the steeds, “Go call for them, Melamin. It seems they are already quite excited to be back home.”

“We are not even to the heart of it yet. Aldariil will be astonished with the massive trees,” Aldaraen couldn’t wait to teach his son all that he knew of Mirkwood. Hopefully the dark magic had not worked too much evil.

“Alinor! Aldariil!” he leapt onto a boulder and called towards the trees, blue gaze narrowed, “It is time to depart! Come!”

“Dragon!” 

Aldaraen blinked several times before he realized Radagast, who was clambering up the boulder behind him, had screamed the word.

“Whatever are you talking about, Animal-Friend?” he smiled down at the poor efforts of the young Wizard, who still appeared to not be 20 years of age yet.

“I said, dragon!” Radagast screeched, and hurled himself at the Elf, knocking him from the boulder.

Aldaraen landed heavily on his back, holding Radagast unconsciously against his chest. 

When the stars left his vision, he indeed saw the silhouette of a dragon descending from the sky before the sun, great wings spread. He opened his mouth to release a noise he wasn’t quite sure he was capable of making anymore, but if anything issued forth, he could not hear, for the beast let out its own mighty, terrifying roar, landing on the bank of the river.

Gandalf was suddenly looking over Aldaraen, but all he muttered was, “Told you.”

Faerlin merely seemed slightly perturbed, for she fanned herself a few times with her hand. Other than that, she remained where she was.

“Family of my family!” the dragon announced cheerily, its sweet, almost ladylike voice startled Aldaraen, and he couldn’t peel his gaze from the marvelous green gem resting on her chest, “Good morning! I came across you in the night, but did not wish to wake and startle you.”

Aldaraen sat up in time to see his two Elflings slide from her back, faces glowing.

“Garrik, has she not grown?” Alinor asked, and Aldaraen felt a touch of sickness.

“Your dragon followed us,” he stated dumbly, and his daughter glanced at him, replying,

“Her name is Menelaudh, and it appears she has wished to accompany us.”

“Your family was departing for new lands, so I thought I might seek a new nesting place, myself!” Menelaudh exclaimed, “Perhaps someplace where I can remain near to you!”

“She…She has nowhere to stay. My brother will hunt her down,” Aldaraen looked at the animal, and she crouched, tucking her wings about her.

“You may speak with me, you know. I do not need a translator. I am quite intelligent,” she smiled with her eyes, “I know that you have not been with dragons before, and there is much you do not understand.”

“I’ve been with dragons before.”

“Yes, my father wrought evil upon you in his darkness. I am his Hatchling. That is how I know you,” Menelaudh dipped her head, “I know words cannot heal what you and your family experienced, but my deepest sorrow I give to you. You have a heart with the courage of the greatest of my Kind, be you meek as a field-rabbit or no.”

Aldaraen was speechless, but he noticed that his wounds did not hurt him, nor his mind.  
“You know me?” he asked hesitantly, “Your presence does not harm me.”

“Yes. I know you, not because Alinor has already spoken of you, which she has, of course, but because the memories of my father were given to me. That is how the knowledge of dragons grows to be so great,” Menelaudh made a very ‘manlike’ gesture, resting her elbows on the ground and settling her chin in what Aldaraen assumed were to be called feet, or claws, “I am also unaffected by our Enemy’s dark magic, for your daughter has brought me up in the Light of the Valar.”

“Our Enemy?” Aldaraen was beginning to ease towards the beast.

“Yes. I wish to destroy the Dark One as much as you do, and to avenge the deceiving of my sire and fellow Dragons,” Menelaudh patted her chest over her heart in an astonishingly Elven way, “The Darkness shall not take me, nor will I let it harm my family-friends.”

“Family-friends? I am assuming they are not related by blood. Who would they be?” Aldaraen asked, but was hardly surprised when the dragon wrapped her great black tail loosely about Alinor, Aldariil, and Garrik.

“First and foremost, these three Elflings, for I know them best. Brothers and sister they are to me,” Menelaudh moved her great head over the three of them, “But their family-friends are also my own.” 

“Menelaudh, the Great Guardian of Mirkwood, the Shadow that strikes the enemies of the King so swiftly that none know of her identity but…but those of Mirkwood, who keep her secret,” Aldariil exclaimed, his imagination obviously getting the best of him, but young Menelaudh hopped slightly in excitement.

“If you love them so, where will you stay hidden from the King until he…warms to you?” Aldaraen asked, many thoughts and ideas beginning to form in his head.

“In the mountains that I have heard talk of,” Menelaudh wagged her tail twice, “Such a flight is not terrible for me now. I have grown quite strong.”

“If you can dwell unnoticed, then I do not see why you should not find a new nesting place, but you shall remain hidden until word is sent to you of your acceptance,” Aldaraen said, “There are Guard and Rangers everywhere in these forests. It is quite different from the Iron Mountains; I can assure you.”

“What if I get no word?” the dragon asked.

“You will get word, and visits, as much as we can,” Alinor patted her leg, “We will make better plans soon, but we need to begin moving. What will you do now?”

“Go in search of the mountains, I suppose,” Menelaudh shrugged, “Do not worry for me. I have grown to enjoy my independence. I was frightened at first, but am not so, now.”

“We will find a way to meet in the weeks ahead,” Alinor said.

“Take your time to settle in, of course. I will be fine,” she smiled and crouched, preparing to leap into the sky, but she stopped suddenly, crying, “Oh, wait, I forgot something! Your Yuletide gifts!”

The company stared at her in surprise.

“For the three younglings. I did not know you others so well, then,” Menelaudh laughed as she might, “I know you are in a hurry against the sun, so let me move along swiftly. It is the best I could do, and I hope you like your gifts.”

She lowered her head to Alinor and smiled, continuing, “For Yuletide, I bestow to you a surname, Alinor Aldarion. May you use it in your future, for dragon-names are always true. To anyone you meet in your future, especially Dragons, you shall be known as SkyDancer, for your fair heart is ever soaring among the clouds, bursting with dreams and spreading wings to seek adventure. You have danced in the sky where no other Elf has gone before, wielding your sword with me as one.”

The dragon had beat them to it, was Aldaraen’s initial thought, but then he found himself feeling pleased for his daughter. 

It was a beautiful and just surname, describing her well, and he, himself, almost felt honored.

This moment he was witnessing was unheard of, between a Great Worm and one of the Eldar.

“To young Aldariil, I name you DragonKin, for you are ever welcoming in your heart of others and hold no judgement against them, the greatest power of a King. There are great things ahead for you, concerning my Kind, I feel. You and I have grown together, practically, and you will forever be a brother to me.”

Aldariil lowered his head when she touched it with her nose, but he kept his shining eyes on her in wonder.

“Garrik,” Menelaudh nuzzled him a bit rougher, and he laughed with her, “Garrik StarGazer, you have been called, but I also name you FreeFlight, for reasons only we will forever remember.”

Garrik smiled, then he glanced at his brother, Raebidus, who was staring at him with an open mouth.

“Guard your heart, small brother, for the purest of things are easily tainted with the smallest drop of darkness,” Menelaudh’s gaze was very serious for a moment, and Garrik furrowed his eyebrows. 

She reared away abruptly, exclaiming, “I leave you with your travels, Elven family and company. I shall see you again soon.”

She leapt into the air and flapped many times to gain altitude, creating a great wind, and she loosed a tremendous roar of farewell before soaring swiftly from sight.

“My Elflings were given dragon-names,” Faerlin said breathlessly, staring at her children in awe, “I never could have…imagined. They are beloved of a Dragon. Riding a Dragon, Melamin.”

“SkyDancer, DragonKin, and FreeFlight,” Gandalf tilted his head, putting an arm around either parent’s shoulders. He sounded as if he approved, “Wondrous names, indeed.”

“Do you really think the Valar placed that beast in our lives?” Aldaraen said to Faerlin, and she met his eyes with uncertainty, responding,

“I do not know. Alinor has always said that she could not reject the Hatchling when she first laid eyes upon it. Perhaps she plays a great part in our future.”

“I wish I could get to know such a creature better, as extraordinary as that sounds,” Aldaraen said, looking up at the sky, “Truly, there are many things I am still ignorant of, and it takes my Elflings to bring me to the light.”

~~~

“Garrik, before we reach our destination, I was hoping to get to speak to you on something that has been bothering me for a while now. Why didn’t you speak to me of the dragon for so many years?” Raebidus’ voice was hurt, and Garrik felt sick with sudden guilt, “I thought we had each other’s complete trust and confidence.”

“Rae’, you do, but…but at the beginning, I hunted her, before I became familiarized with her. I didn’t want you to do the same, which you would have for perfectly logical reasons, or, worse yet, tell Aldaraen of her before he was ready for the news,” Garrik responded, and reached across their two mounts, touching his brother’s sun-tanned hand with his own pale, white one, “He would not have batted an eye in the hunting of her, and I’m afraid that the confrontation between Ali’ and her father would’ve been far worse that it was.”

“All you would have had to do was speak to me on the matter and explain that she was a…a friend,” Raebidus shook his head, “You know I would never do something so rash as hunt a creature you call a friend. Have I ever done anything to hurt you?”

“Until I found that you were keeping my father’s and my heirloom’s identity from me, no,” Garrik responded.

“Garrik, Father never told me anything of your parent but for a name. I knew nothing else of him. I didn’t understand the importance of any of it, so when he told me to keep it from you until the time was right, I didn’t know what to look for,” Raebidus was being completely honest, “After so many years went by, it become unimportant to even me, and I…I forgot of it. I know that sounds cruel, but I didn’t mean it that way. I think you know that. I always saw us growing old together in that home, farming and living a quiet life. Everything has been turned upside down now, and I fear you are being pulled in many directions.”

Garrik was watching him sadly, then he looked over his shoulder for a moment at the Elven family following them. His expression softened and he met Raebidus’ gaze again, saying, “I am not being pulled in different directions, Rae’. I love you as much as I am able. If I grew to not care for you, would I have asked you if you would accompany me anywhere I went before Aldaraen even spoke to you of our departure? I cannot bear the thought of never seeing you again.”

“Garrik, you are pulled in two ways. You are torn between spending your days with those Elves behind us, or with me. When you lived under their roof for all those long years, we hardly saw each other. At least, it seemed that way to me. I can understand why that is, really, I can, but you must choose who you will align yourself with for your lifetime. I do not plan to die in Mirkwood, Garrik. I will continue my journeys. As for you, you will either come with me, or you will stay with your own People. Don’t misunderstand me, too, for I could not be happier that Aldaraen has taken you into his family. Your life will be far, far longer than mine, and I am glad that you will have a family to return to in the future.”

“It is early for these decisions, my brother,” Garrik made a motion with his hand absently that Raebidus did not recognize, “We will return to them later, no?”

“Of course, Garrik,” Raebidus sighed and looked away.

“Rae’?”

“Yes, Garrik.”

“What do you think of her?” Garrik asked, then added quickly, “Menelaudh, I mean.”  
It took him a moment to recognize the name, but when he did, he answered, “She is…unbelievable. Literally. The entire situation of you three being so close with a dragon, battling beside her and…and receiving names from her…it is unbelievable.” He grinned at his brother, appreciating his effort to begin a lighter conversation, “But it is nothing less of what I would expect you to do. You were always odd.”

Garrik smiled, as well, and said, “How goes your training in the ways of magic with those Wizards? Have they taught you anything truly useful?”

“Yes, defensive ways and the sort. I am much further in the understanding of it then you Elves, for I lived with them, you see. They were interesting house guests,” Raebidus shook his head with a laugh, “Many things became broken and burned during practice. Both from them, and from myself. Magic is a powerful thing, however, I have grown to realize. If one has a dark heart, it can work great evil.”

Garrik was silent now, and Raebidus worried that he had said something wrong, but the Avari said,

“I want to see you work your skills sometime.”

“Of course. Perhaps I may start learning you some greater things. The Wizards say I must be careful, for there are some who do not take kindly to magic,” Raebidus replied, “There is great good and also great damage to be done with it.”

“I can only imagine. Think of what our People, the Avari and the Brigands, were capable of when they submitted to the Enemy,” Garrik frowned, “It must have been awful.”

“Aldaraen said it began to poison the Forest,” Raebidus mirrored his expression, “I hope the Elves have enough sense to learn how to protect themselves from such darkness after seeing what happened to their King.”

“Do you think the new King, Aldaraen’s elder brother, is quite…terrible?” Garrik looked embarrassed, “Aldaraen doesn’t speak of him much, but I cannot help feel trepidation when imagining my meeting with him. Alinor does not remember him that well.”

“He is an elder brother, and, as I see it, Aldaraen broke his promise to him. Perhaps he will be a little sour,” Raebidus smiled at his brother humorously, “I know I would be. He might knock Aldaraen around a bit, but he’ll be glad to see him, I’m sure.”

Garrik laughed, and the familiar sound lightened Raebidus’ own mood. He was beginning to grow more comfortable with his slightly changed brother with each passing day. 

Perhaps his journeying to Mirkwood was for the best, after all.

~~~

~ Sundown…

“We still have a little daylight left, but the Forest is so thick, it grows dark swiftly,” Aldaraen informed Radagast when the Wizard questioned him, “I remember this. Many memories that I had put away are beginning to return.”

“The greenness is beginning to leave,” Gandalf glanced about them, plucking at a dead leaf, “I will assume that it is not from frost.”

“You are correct. It seems that the poison of our enemies has indeed continued to spread,” Aldaraen stopped beside a rotting bush and stared at it, “This is a sickness I have not seen worked on nature. We’d best be very careful. I do not know if any fell creatures have spawned in these parts.”

“Tis’ very sad,” Radagast said quietly, wiping a dark sludge from a tree and sniffing.

“We are merely a few hours away from the Palace,” Faerlin said, pulling him away gently, “We are in the bounds of the Rangers’ borders of patrol. We are entering not by the road, for we know this Forest, and we might startle someone. Keep your ears sharp.”

“Or sharp-er for the Elves,” Gandalf leaned over to Aldaraen, elbowing him playfully, but the Elf stared at him expressionlessly. “Don’t you get it? Your ears are pointy, sharper…never mind,” Gandalf huffed and joined Saruman, who sighed.

“We’ve made very good time, really,” Aldaraen said, beginning to lead his steed forward by the chin, “This will be the slowest bit of our trek through the Wood, for the undergrowth is so thick and we can no longer ride. When we reach the back trail towards the Stable Gate we may ride again.” 

“The more raging the river becomes in the distance, the closer we are,” Faerlin followed her husband, beckoning to the others, “The river runs through the Palace. We should be home before dark.”

~~~

“So, should I bow to him?” Gandalf asked Aldaraen, walking beside him, “Or is he sort of laid back, more like you?”

“He is very serious, and he is the King. You should bow and introduce yourself. Actually, you might want Saruman to do the talking. He strikes me as being well-worded,” Aldaraen responded, and Saruman looked pleased.

“How will I know your brother?” Gandalf continued the conversation, having been gathering as much information about Mirkwood as he could while they walked. He was bored.

“I regret I do not have a picture to show you, but his hair is a silvery blonde, like Alinor’s before she…she cut it. He is as tall as I, and his eyes are a more icy blue than my own. I believe you shall know him, and if you do not, you’ll quickly find out because of how I will speak to him,” Aldaraen said. 

The company had taken a short rest, washing their hands and faces in the river, before moving on.

“In all truth, I am quite nervous to meet him again. I do not know how he has changed, or how he will receive me. Many things change in over 100 years,” Aldaraen swallowed and brushed his hands over his chest and stomach, “I hope he is…happy to see us.”

“You are working yourself up far too much, Melamin. He will be more than joyous,” Faerlin said, “You need to relax.”

“I broke a promise. A brother does not do that,” Aldaraen said quietly, still looking concerned.

“You will explain to him why you were so late,” Saruman offered now, “You had good reasons.”

“What will he think of our adoption?” Aldaraen looked back at his wife worriedly.

“If you were to be worrying so over our adoption, then we should never have taken Garrik in,” Faerlin responded with a shrug, “He will accept Garrik because you love him.”

Aldaraen nodded in agreement, as if not having thought of that.

“What are those?” Radagast asked suddenly in alarm, stopping the company, and more than a few of their hands flew to the hilts of their swords.

“Oh, those are webs of the giant Weavers,” Aldaraen relaxed, but he looked all about them, including up in the branches.

“What are those?” Radagast asked again.

“They are very large spiders. Spawn of Ungoliant, servants to the Enemy. They are easy to overcome, but if they assault in a great pack, it is best to have a companion at your side,” Aldaraen smiled fondly at Faerlin, “These webs are very old. I know this, because Faerlin and I ran into the Weavers who used to reside here a very, very long time ago. We were young and foolish, but we cleared their Nest. Just the two of us. Eardaneth was quite upset with us.”

“We are very close to the trail. We used to ride it nearly every day together after lessons,” Faerlin smiled at him, “Many small memories are returning.” 

Radagast reached a hand towards the webs in fascination, but Aldaraen grasped his wrist abruptly, saying seriously, “Do not touch them, my friend. They might be interconnected with others. We have learned that it signals their attack, usually. They sense the smallest of vibrations.”

Radagast drew back his hand quickly, eyes wide.

“What other creatures are in the Wood?” Gandalf asked, peering about them, “Surely it cannot be mere giant spiders that keep the Elves in their stronghold.”

“No, but the Weavers multiply rapidly, and they do pose a threat, Master Wizard,” Aldaraen replied dryly, then added, “Stray Warg packs, the occasional, stupid Orc party, Chitter-wings, as we call them, which are giant bats. Tree-trolls—“

“So, many fell things,” Gandalf nodded, pressing his lips together, “That is indeed quite sad. Freaks of nature.”

“About the Palace it is not so terrible, for the Rangers and Guard are always protecting and hunting at all hours of the day and night. Nothing passes without them knowing of it,” Aldaraen said.

“What do the giant bats do?” Radagast asked with wide eyes, “Are they quite dangerous?”

“Well, they can stun you and make you quite dizzy. At least, they can to Elves. A swarm of them can finish you off, no doubt,” Aldaraen answered.

“Why are they called Chitter-wings?” Radagast asked another question.

“Because of the sound of their passing, that is why,” Aldaraen answered patiently.

“Well, what about the Tree-Trolls?”

“What about them?”

“How large are they?”

“Larger than an Elf. They’ve been here for Ages, but they have been poisoned, and will attack without reason.”

“Are they quite dangerous?”

“I suppose.”

“Where’s Raebidus?”

“I don’t—Where’s Raebidus?” Aldaraen looked at Radagast in surprise.

“Yes, I do not see him,” Radagast looked about himself again with raised eyebrows, “Have we lost him?”

“He would be the only one in our company affected by the mixing of Elven and Black magic, Melamin, for he is a Man. He may have wandered away,” Faerlin said, and when Garrik’s expression grew alarmed, she added quickly, “There is no cause for alarm. We will find him again. He cannot have gone far.”

“What if your Guard finds him first?” Garrik exclaimed and turned on his heel, preparing to dash into the Forest, but Aldaraen said loudly,

“Garrik, hold!”

The Avari stopped obediently, of course, and turned to look at the Sindar with wide eyes.

“We will go in groups, alright?”

Garrik nodded.

“I’m sure nothing bad will happen to him. He will just feel greatly confused until we help him from his cloudiness,” Aldaraen continued, “I know you feel that you are in very strange lands, but I was raised here, and know this area of the Forest like the back of my hand. It’s alright.”

Garrik nodded again.

“Go with the Wizards and Aldariil. With him, you will be alright if you run into other Elves. Do not separate from him. You do not want to meet with the Guard alone. Especially you, Garrik. You look much like your father, although I do not see it anymore, and hatred still runs deep with the Elven folk here, I would think,” Aldaraen said seriously.

“Yes, we’ve talked of this. I just wish to hurry before Raebidus is found by your Elves or something less pleasant,” Garrik said, beckoning to the Wizards and Aldariil.

“They are not my Elves, nor are they Thranduil’s. They serve entirely out of loyalty. If they depart, they depart,” Aldaraen sounded slightly offended, but he overcame it swiftly and finished, “Call to us if you become lost or come upon trouble. Do not go too far, either.”

Garrik nodded and leapt into the undergrowth.

He broke into a sprint when he was able, tracking backwards and calling his brother’s name.

“Aldaraen said not to go far,” Radagast called, trying to catch up to him, but Garrik was much swifter, beginning to lose them quickly, “If you keep that pace, you will cover much ground!”

Garrik didn’t respond, worry for his brother overcoming all other reasoning.

“You’re an Elf, you’ll lose us!” Gandalf called, and Garrik glanced over his shoulder in time to see the Wizard slow drastically. 

As a result, Aldariil careened into him and they both fell head over heels into the undergrowth.

Garrik rolled his eyes and continued a few bounds more before slowing to a stop.

“Garrik, don’t leave us,” Aldariil looked slightly frightened when came lightly to a stop before him and Garrik sighed, “If we come upon such creatures as Ada described then we’ll need your strength.”

“We just passed through here, Aldariil,” he smiled at him exasperatingly, “We would’ve spotted any fell thing. Do not fear so.”

“Are you quite sure, Master Elf,” Saruman looked skeptically towards the trees at Garrik’s right shoulder, “We passed through several meters away from here. Something might’ve been hidden.”

“Yes, these trees are quite thick,” Gandalf agreed, and rapped one of the smaller, slender trees with his staff. 

No sooner had he finished his striking did a branch swing forward and catch Gandalf and Garrik heavily in their side, knocking them off their feet and back a couple yards.

When the ringing left Garrik’s head, he realized Gandalf was holding a single scream of, 

“Owwww!” and he rolled over, staring at him in alarm.

Aldariil cowered away, blue eyes wide, but Saruman stepped forward and shouted a spell, bringing his staff down decisively before the massive Tree-Troll that turned slowly to face them, a growl building in its throat.

A brilliant flash of light erupted from the top of the Wizard’s staff and Garrik was astounded, feeling his mouth drop open at the magnificent sight.

“It has a heart! Just stab it! They’re extremely slow,” Gandalf exclaimed, still having not disclosed what his injury was, “Get rid of it before you worry over me. I’m fine!”

Garrik complied and leapt to his feet, drawing his gleaming sword. He held it before his face briefly, staring decisively at it.

Now was a better time than ever to serve Aldaraen’s House.

He turned on the Troll and flung himself against its barky body, hacking his sword many times where the heart should be.

The beast made a strange, gargling noise after merely a few seconds and it fell to its knees before collapsing with a crash. 

“Well,” Garrik sheathed his sword and dusted off his tunic, “You were right. That was far easier than I thought.”

“Unless they are in packs, then they are quite dangerous,” Gandalf replied, “Their hearts are wooden, but made of the stuff of this earth, and they may be killed.”

“Elven blades are sharp and made to pierce such things,” Saruman tilted his head, observing Garrik’s sword, “Aldaraen is indeed a gifted weapon-smith.”

“Garrik!” 

The Avari turned around, relieved to hear his brother’s voice, and the red-haired Man stumbled towards them from the undergrowth, eyes wide.

“I heard the beast and came to the sound. I…I do not know what came over me. I was just suddenly…lost,” Raebidus seemed frightened, “I had lost every one of you by the time I gathered some of my wits again. I am glad you found such a beast to cause a ruckus.”

“We were searching for you,” Garrik held Raebidus’ arm briefly in relief, “I am glad to see you had the will of mind to realize you had become lost.”

“We’d best find the others. Tree-Trolls usually come to the sounds of combat, especially with one of their own,” Gandalf said, “Something I am learned of- Trolls. Do not ask me how. Let’s be on.”

“Aldariil, you were correct in your fear of meeting a beast. Quite a chance to meet a Tree-Troll after your words, no?” Garrik smiled at the smaller, younger Elf, “I am sorry. You were right.”

“No, it’s alright,” Aldariil responded with a laugh, “It was good to see you and Saruman fight.”

“It was not much,” Saruman said, although he sounded flattered.

“Were you wounded, Gandalf?” Radagast knelt at his companion’s side, but Gandalf waved him away, saying,

“I got a nasty, nasty splinter.”

He was squeezing his finger and blood welled at the tip.

“By the sound of your cries, I thought you had broken a rib,” Garrik laughed, examining the Wizard’s proffered finger, “I’ll get it out in a jiffy.”

“If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a splinter,” Gandalf muttered, then added, “What’s a jiffy?”

“Something to describe a time. Perhaps it is a ‘Man term’,” Garrik smiled. He yanked at the, thankfully, large splinter in Gandalf’s finger and it came free cleanly, but the Wizard still let out a loud cry.

“Oh, please, Gandalf! You do not need be so loud!” Radagast protested, “It is only a splinter!”

“Only a splinter?” Gandalf tensed ferociously towards the smaller Wizard, and Garrik almost chuckled, “Only a splinter? I’ll show you a splinter and then let’s hear how loud you’re wailing after!”

For a moment, Garrik actually thought the two Wizards might get into a fight, but the sound of twigs and branches snapping reached his sensitive ears, and he hissed, “Hold your tongues, you two.”

The two Wizards looked at him in surprise, but Garrik didn’t respond, hoping that the sounds would reach the others soon enough.

He turned and stared into the trees, half hoping that it was Aldaraen and his family, although it sounded far too large.

Perhaps it was the horses..?

Garrik began to back away, an uncomfortable feeling creeping over him, and he was just beginning to turn to the others to announce their swift departure when Radagast let out a very loud sneeze.

“Oh, really, Radagast, do you have to be so loud?” Gandalf muttered in a mocking voice, and the smaller Wizard elbowed his companion.

Garrik found no humor in it and he turned swiftly back to the trees.

He caught a glimpse of dark, mangy fur creeping through the trees, and he recognized it as a Warg.

“Run. Go back to Aldaraen’s family. It’s a Warg pack. It must be,” Garrik shoved at Aldariil first and the Elfling looked up at him with wide, sapphire eyes, “Just go back the way we came. I’ll be right behind you, Aldariil.”

The Elfling paused, then nodded, and took the lead, the Wizards following him, and Garrik prepared to bring up the rear.

He glanced back at the trees and saw a flash of many yellow eyes.

With a grim feeling, he dashed after his companions.

He felt very welcome in Mirkwood, indeed.

~~~

Thranduil jumped at the same time as the Guard and Rangers when the loud sound broke the silence. They were crouched in the trees, waiting over a small trail that they were hoping the Wargs would take.

“Was that a sneeze?” Thranduil looked at Eardaneth in bewilderment, and the auburn-haired Captain shrugged with a grin, answering,

“That’s what I heard.”

“More Avari runaways?” Thranduil smiled at him, and Eardaneth shifted on his feet, saying,

“Shall we investigate further?”

Before Thranduil could respond, the sound of horrendous crashing in the trees and many, pounding feet made all the Elves stand.

“Seems we found our Warg pack. I wasn’t aware they could sneeze in such a fair manner,” Eardaneth laughed.

“They were quiet, were they not, stalking that way,” Thranduil drew his sword, the others following suit, “It disturbs me that they passed so closely unnoticed. I wonder what else has gone by.”

“They probably took a different path. Perhaps they found prey of some sort. Come on. Let’s get this over with,” Earathran drew his sword and flipped it in his hand, blue gaze intense, “I have business to attend back home. This was supposed to be my day off.”

“Darnuigar needed it more, son,” Eardaneth chuckled at him, “Let’s go.”

“Tul a no' lye auta!” Thranduil shouted and leapt forward. He could hear the Guard, Rangers and Lorien Elves following him through the branches.

“You’ve grown quite accustomed to giving orders, haven’t you?” Eardaneth called with a laugh, and Thranduil glanced towards him, answering,

“I would hope!”

“You are a fine leader!” Eardaneth exclaimed on a last note as they overcame the large Wargs running below them, and he leapt from the branches, landing on its back and dispatching it easily.

Thranduil followed him and, not for the first time, marveled at how Eardaneth had trained his good arm in sword use. He would’ve thought the elder Elf would no longer take part in such combat, but he was more deadly with his left arm than he ever was with his right.

~~~

“Here they come!” Garrik saw the first Warg burst from the undergrowth behind them. It was gaining on them quickly and Garrik thought fast, shouting, “Aldariil, keep running! Go find your father and bring him back!” 

Aldariil motioned that he had heard.

Garrik skidded to a stop and turned, sword flashing, and the Warg slammed into him, carrying them both forward several yards.

Garrik stabbed it in the belly at the same time he saw a flash of auburn light upon the Warg’s back, and, for a horrifying moment, he took it for an Orc, but the blade that stabbed the Warg in the heart, and also nearly his hand, was an Elvish blade.

The Warg fell forward and Garrik was crushed between the ground and the horrific, smelly weight.

He heard the sound of sliding steel and sharp commands in Elvish, cries erupting from amongst the Wargs, and he felt the strange, simultaneous sensation of hope and dread.

It seemed that the Wargs that had been stalking them were also stalked by the Elven Guard.

He pulled himself with effort from under the carcass and watched as dozens of brown and green clad Elves dropped from the trees, calling to one another and wielding swords.

Many of them wore a silver band about their bicep with a star embroidered on it, making them appear different. It was the star of Lorien, he recognized from his studies, and he felt the briefest moment of wonder.

He turned and began defending himself against another Warg that began attacking him, froth dripping from its fangs, and a slender Elf leapt to his side, seemingly without noticing his different appearance yet.

They fought and killed it together, and the Guard moved on, not even noticing Garrik’s odd identity.

Garrik turned and leapt to the aid of a Lorien Elf who had been taken by the arm and was being shaken viciously. He thought it was a sickening sight.

He leapt onto the Warg’s back and plunged it towards the beast’s neck, but it twisted and grasped his blade in its mouth, twisting his arm painfully. It sent the weapon spinning away into the grass. No sooner had the blade touched the ground than did a Guard snatch it up and fling it back towards its owner.

Garrik praised Aldaraen’s strict training inwardly as he surprised himself with his quick reflex and adeptly caught the hilt of the airborne sword, finishing off the Warg.

It was almost fun working with other Elves in this way, but he knew they hadn’t taken the time to realize who was among them. After all, he was wearing his own brown tunic with the mark of Aldaraen and Mirkwood on the chest that Faerlin had altered for him.

A heavy blow landed across his back and he cried out in pain. He rolled when he fell and leapt back smoothly to his feet, barely fending away the largest Warg yet. He knew he was bleeding when he felt a cold wetness on his back.

The Warg’s great, yellow eyes were furious as it lunged for him again, but Garrik left it no opening.

‘Where are the Wizards?’ he couldn’t help wondering in irritation.

This Warg was a fighter, for no matter how many times Garrik wounded or stabbed it, the beast continued its struggle with him. 

Garrik leaned back when it attempted to bowl him over with a massive paw, and he dodged the swipe, but the Warg’s claw caught in his tunic and he found himself in the oddest of tug-of-war battles he had ever experienced.

The Warg knew his victory and it drew him closer to its face, almost humorously.

Garrik flinched when a strong voiced shouted, “N’alaquel, lante uuvanimo!” and a slender, silvery haired Elf leapt onto the Warg’s back, swinging his sword down. It almost caught Garrik, for the Elf was aiming for the Warg’s throat under his chin.

Garrik shoved forward and drove his own sword in for the fatal blow and the Warg reared, thrashing.

The tall Elf hopped out of the way and the Warg crashed down, concealing Garrik from him, but the Avari stood very still. He knew he had seen Aldaraen, or, at least, he thought he had. The sword had even looked like Aldaraen’s.

He froze where he was when he ran around the Warg’s carcass and ran into the Elf, who was also running his direction.

“Aldaraen, I didn’t mean to hurry! I’m sorry, I was—“ he choked off in surprise. 

The Elf was definitely not Aldaraen, and he also was staring at Garrik in wide-eyed surprise.

He saw Raebidus through the trees, crouching with the Wizards to stay out of sight, and his brother waved his arms at him desperately, but Garrik drew his gaze back to the Elf who was still before him.

He wore a thicker, darker circlet than Aldaraen, and the marking across his chest was unmistakable. 

Aldaraen and his brother actually looked quite a bit alike.

The King’s face twisted into something of fury and pain and Garrik needn’t guess why.

As the Elf pulled his sword-arm back, just as Aldaraen had at their first meeting, to deal him a killing blow, Garrik ducked and ran under his arm, making for the trees.

“He’s going to kill you, Garrik! Run! We’ll find Aldaraen!” 

Garrik thought it was Raebidus who had screamed at him desperately, but he didn’t pause to find out. He knew Aldaraen’s brother was right on his heels.

Garrik burst into a clearing and he hopped to a stop before a very steep, grassy cliff.   
He turned with wide, black eyes, shouting, “I’m not Garran! I’m a…I’m—“ He was completely lost for words.

The King stopped before him, icy gaze narrowed, and he leveled his sword at Garrik’s chest, hissing, “San' wearien amin toror's aith?”

“I apologize, my lord. I speak the Elven tongue decently, however, not whenever I’m frightened. I just…can’t,” Garrik swallowed hard. 

An Elf hadn’t looked at him in such a manner in many, many years.

“Then why do you wear my brother’s mark?” the King’s (Garrik couldn’t remember his name to save his life, at the moment) voice was trembling in a mixture of fury and horror, “What have you done to him?”

“I am not who you think I am,” Garrik dropped his sword and held his hands out pleadingly, “Please. I know I look like the Elf who slew your father, but I am not him. Your brother is safe.”

No sense of belief crossed the King’s expression and Garrik cursed to himself.

Aldaraen had been right. His brother was far more stubborn than he.

With a roar, Gandalf burst from the trees behind the King and leapt, arms stretched forward, and he bowled the Sindar forward, grasping him about the waist. 

Garrik gaped in shock as the Wizard carried both himself and the Elven-King over the side of the grassy cliff, both of them screaming at each other.

“Are you alright? Your brother and Radagast went to find Aldaraen,” Saruman was at his side a few moments later, holding his arm, and Garrik nodded, answering slowly,

“Gandalf just killed the King.”

“Oh no, lad. He didn’t kill him,” the Wizard said lowly after staring down the cliff, “But he probably just made the best of acquaintances, did he not?” His sarcasm was poorly concealed.

Garrik peered over the cliff and deemed it safe to climb down. He leapt down at several spots and even landed on a limb before helping Saruman down into the grass.

“What do you think you’re doing? He is perfectly innocent and helping you Elves route a pack of Wargs, and you decide to kill him?” Gandalf was exclaiming, and he hit the King smartly with his staff, who was obviously looking for his sword.

“Ow,” the King growled and he stood slowly, looking at Gandalf in irritation, and he finished, “Who do you think you are and why are you dressed so ridiculously?”

“Oh great,” Saruman groaned, and Garrik couldn’t help a small smile.

“Well,” Gandalf huffed, although he seemed pleased that he might get to introduce himself, “I am Gandalf the Grey. And I am one of the Istari. A Wizard, you might say.”

The King stared at him, then shook his head slightly and turned again, kicking through the tall grass and, apparently, deeming Gandalf as not very dangerous.

“I am accompanied by Saruman the White and Radagast the Brown. They both are Wizards, also,” Gandalf continued, following the King, “We used to have two others, called the Blues, but I don’t remember their names, because they did not accompany us long.”

“Why? Did they grow weary of your company so swiftly?” the King asked somewhat sarcastically, sounding more like his brother, and Gandalf rubbed the back of his neck, laughing nervously,

“Well, more or less.”

The King found his weapon and he lifted it after wiping it clean in the grass. He glanced at Gandalf, then flipped it and sheathed it at his hip.

“Where are you going to, so that we might escort you away from here as soon as possible,” he said, crossing his arms, “You are no threat, I can see. But those of unstable minds are not particularly good guests.”

“You’re calling me crazy?” Gandalf appeared aghast.

“More or less,” the young King mimicked the Wizard’s voice nearly perfectly and Garrik covered his smile.

“You don’t believe I’m a Wizard, then,” Gandalf put his hands on his hips. It wasn’t a question.

“I believe you are whatever you think you are,” the King smiled decisively, ending the discussion, and he began to turn back towards the cliff to clamber up its side.

Gandalf leapt after him and grasped his belt, yanking at him, and the King stared over his shoulder at him in shock.

“Let go of me, you crazed Man, Wizard, whatever you are!” the Elf kicked at him, but Gandalf’s weight made him lose his handhold and he fell back to the ground, “Get away from me!”

Gandalf put his hands in the air, but he said, “I can perform magic of many kinds.”

“I’m quite sure you can,” the King’s cheeks were red and he fixed his tunic, “Do not touch me again.”

“I said, I perform magic. Aren’t you interested?” Gandalf smiled proudly, but the King replied,

“I perform magic, as well, but probably for very different reasons then you do.”

“Listen, lad. There’s no need to be rude,” Gandalf poked him in the shoulder and the King shoved him back, pointing at him warningly.

“You obviously have no idea who I am,” the Elf rolled his eyes before finishing, “Elves don’t take too kindly to unnecessary touching.”

“Get over it,” Gandalf retorted, then added, “You are correct. I do not know who you are, but I can find out, because I am a Wizard. I may sense things.”

“Go ahead,” the King motioned absently at him, looking up when the rest of the Mirkwood company dropped from the cliff to join them, some of them leading Garrik and Saruman forward.

“Alright. I am sensing that you are…the royal…” the King actually looked at Gandalf in surprise before the young Wizard finished loudly, “Ass!”

The gathered Mirkwood company gasped, except for one of them that was missing half his arm, and he let out a short laugh.

“You think I’m a royal ass?” the King raised his eyebrows at him, then gave the company a signal and they closed in on the strangers, obviously taking them into custody, “That is good. Then you may be my royal jester, no?”

Gandalf frowned at him and said, “It’s not like you’re the King.”

“Oh, but I am,” the Elf smiled at him thinly, “I am quite a young King, yes, but that is not my fault. It has been a pleasure, Master Wizard. I’ll see you in our dungeons.”

“Oh, sure! King!” Gandalf called after his retreating form angrily, but Garrik elbowed him and muttered,

“Gandalf, that was the King. That was Aldaraen’s brother, Thranduil.”

“I will let Aldaraen tell me so, for I see no resemblance,” Gandalf sniffed, and when one of the Guard took his staff from him, he yanked it back ferociously, shouting, “That is mine! Do not take it from me!” 

The Elf actually held up his hands and conceded, but he kept his eye on him for the entire trip to the Palace.

~~~

“If they have been caught, then they will be taken to the Palace,” Aldaraen said to Raebidus calmly, sighing, “Oh well. At least it goes to show that the Guard is ever active. It is a good thing.”

“They won’t hurt him, will they?” Raebidus said in concern, but Aldaraen shook his head, answering,

“I know not, so let us make haste. It will not take us long to get there.”

Raebidus looked up in horror when a loud command of, “Hold!” was shouted from above by a young, yet strong voice, and a dozen, very young appearing Elves landed around them in a loose circle, bows drawn.

“They’re everywhere,” Radagast groaned, and Raebidus heard Faerlin say to Aldaraen when she leaned close to him, 

“They are very, very young. Perhaps newly graduated Rangers on their first mission alone. A good surprise we made for them, didn’t we? They will not know our faces, nor who we are, for they were not born in our time here.”

“Just let them do their job, then,” Aldaraen smiled at her teasingly as he laid his sword across their mount’s back and motioned to the young Elves that he was surrendering, “Let’s not frighten them.”

“We wish to see the King, Rangers of Mirkwood,” Faerlin called, and one of the Rangers nodded, answering,

“You seem to be one of our People.”

“Yes, we lived here many decades ago. Will you escort us to the Palace? We give no resistance of our custody, for we know your reasons to be so thorough in your regulations,” Aldaraen answered, and the young Rangers glanced at each other.

“Alright, we will take you. Put the ladies on the steeds, if you so wish,” one of the Rangers beckoned to Alinor and Faerlin.

Aldaraen couldn’t help in sharing a snicker with his wife when he helped her onto the horse’s back. 

This was saving more than just a little trouble.

~~~


	17. Heirs ~ Chapter 16

“I do not wish for this dark one’s presence to be made known,” Thranduil said to his company when they entered the stable gate, “Take him to a cell and I’ll decide what is to happen to him. Bind him.”

“I’m not Garran! Nor am I anything like him!” Garrik tried again to explain himself, but the King merely gave him a look of ice, replying,

“You might not be Garran, but there is something very odd about you that I do not like. You will be held until you have been discussed.”

“He will be present for those discussions, will he not?” Gandalf asked coolly, “It is only fair.”

“Our business is none of yours,” Thranduil looked at him tiredly, “I am quite through with arguing with you, be you an ‘Istari’, ‘Wizard’, or whatever you claim to be, or not. You will join your dark friend until further notice.”

“As expected, from the cruelest Officer I have ever met,” Gandalf huffed.

“Not the cruelest, Master Wizard,” Thranduil waved them away, and the Guard took them by the arms, leading them towards a descending stairway, “We will see to your fate after supper. Which is far more important than Wizards.”

Gandalf rolled his eyes, but Garrik begged him with his gaze to remain silent and comply with the King’s sarcastic wishes.

As two of the elder Guard chained Garrik’s arms behind his back roughly, Gandalf did so for his companion’s sake, not wishing to worsen his situation.

~~~

~ A few hours later…

“My lord,” a young Ranger interrupted Thranduil’s quite conversation with his son where they sat with many other Elves in the Gardens, taking their supper, “My lord, I am sorry to interrupt, but it is rather important.”

“Don’t apologize, what is it?” Thranduil looked at the dark blonde Elf in surprise when he saw his troubled expression, “I know this was your first mission in leadership. Did it go well?”

“Yes, my lord, but we came upon a…situation. It is nothing…terrible, but we came across some travelers. One who calls himself a Wizard, a Man, and a family of Elves,” the Ranger was holding his bow before him tightly, “I’m not sure how to treat them, my lord.”

“Another Wizard?” Thranduil rolled his eyes and began to look apologetically at his son, but Legolas said quickly, 

“I will attend to them, Ada. I am old enough to take some of the small responsibilities from your shoulders.”

Thranduil paused, then said, “Just tell the Lorien March-Wardens to put them in cells until the morrow. They should be on watch in the courtyard, anyway. Don’t bother yourself too much, son.”

“Even if they are friends?” Legolas looked troubled, and Thranduil replied,

“I’ve already met two Wizards, and if this other one is anything like them, then I wish to just put the entire company in the dungeons until we discuss them tomorrow.”

Legolas shrugged, but he complied, turning on his heel and beckoning to the young Ranger, who fell in behind his Prince obediently.

~~~

Alinor watched in wonder as the Rangers unpacked their mounts and carefully went through their belongings. Her parents did not seem to have an issue with it, so she allowed herself to savor the sweet memories that were returning to her in a torrent. 

“I' megil ar' kawa a' i' hyarya,” the Ranger that had taken command after their Chief had departed motioned to their weapons, and a few Rangers finished unsaddling Forwen and Ardir before coming to his aid.

“They will be returned to you after you have had clearance from the King,” the Ranger said informatively, and looked slightly surprised when Aldaraen let out a quiet, almost nervous laugh.

“Amin nikerym!” one of the young Rangers called in shock, and he lifted Faerlin’s bow.

The Rangers encircling them peered about each other at the weapon when the Ranger in command took it and stepped curiously towards the family.

“Who does this bow belong to? You did not tell us you served under the passed King Oropher,” he said quietly, “We have not seen such markings on one of our weapons since King Thranduil took the throne.”

“It is mine, young Sergeant,” Faerlin took it from him and ran her hands over the smooth wood, “Although I do not put it to much good use since motherhood took higher authority than my position as Chief of Rangers in service.”

Without a second thought, the young Rangers present glanced at one another before saluting her simultaneously, pressing fists to their chests and standing very straight.

“My apologies, Chief, we did not know your face, nor your position. You shall be given your rightful authority as soon as the King has seen to your company,” the Sergeant said stiffly.

Faerlin returned the salute with obvious embarrassment and Aldariil stared at her in smiling amazement, “I believe I will relinquish my command, Sergeant. I have not come to a decision.”

The Sergeant didn’t seem to know how to respond, so he said instead, “You will understand our procedures, then, in requiring the King to approve of your residence here, Chief.”

“Of course,” Faerlin nodded to him.

Alinor wasn’t sure if they were playing some mean joke in not telling them Aldaraen’s identity, but perhaps it was for the best that they didn’t know, in order to divert an unnecessary uproar. Her father probably wanted a quiet, personal reunion, she could guess.

These young Rangers didn’t seem to know Aldaraen’s mark, either. 

They had indeed been absent from Mirkwood for a very long time.

“Taur'ohtar, lye caela naia a' yamen' sen e' i' band tenna' uma tuulo' i' aran!” a young voice shouted from above, and the Rangers looked behind Alinor’s family and upwards towards the higher passages, she knew, “Chief of Rangers or not, we have orders from the King to place them in the dungeons until further notice. The Prince will join us soon enough, but he…he was called by the Queen.”

“But they have served with us. Why treat them as prisoners?” the young Sergeant looked confused as the Rangers sighed and encircled them again, grasping their arms, obeying the now higher authority.

“The King will make a decision tomorrow. You will do as I say and not question. The King has ordered it so,” the voice was close behind them now and Alinor heard several Elves hop from the staircase.

The young Rangers’ Chief brushed past her as he returned.

“The King sent the March-Wardens to care for them before they take their watch duty,” he finished quietly to the Sergeant, “Do you not wish to leave early?”

She tried to turn, but the Rangers holding her turned her around gently again, not being unfriendly, just sourly obedient. She caught a glimpse through the Rangers of silver and forest green tunics with blue stars embroidered on the sleeve and her heart began thumping very fast.

She knew the uniform as the Lorien March-Wardens, what her closest companion in her youth had dreamt of becoming, and it seemed that the young Lorien class had completed their training after the battle, after all.

“We will take them to holding when our Captain joins us,” one of the Lorien Elves said in the gentle voice she had grown to associate with Lothlorien, and Alinor strained to see him, but the Rangers wouldn’t let her turn, “He will arrive presently with his own scout party. There are but three of them, so their late mission will be concluded swiftly.”

“We leave you, then,” the Chief of the young Rangers saluted the Lorien March-Warden and turned, motioning with his gloved hand, and the other Silvan Rangers fell in behind him.

Alinor listened to their voices fade as they began laughing, duties behind them now, and she sighed. She was impatient to traipse the Palace once more.

As the Lorien Elves encircled them, she found that she recognized none of them, scanning each face in view carefully. She wondered if she would recognize her old training companions, or vice versa.

The only Lorien Elf in her class under Yaeran and Eardaneth had been Haldir, as it was, so she wasn’t too concerned.

She looked at Radagast and Raebidus, who seemed unsettled, but Aldariil was staring about himself in wide-eyed amazement.

She couldn’t wait to explore with him.

There was a rushing noise and Alinor recognized it as the Stable Gate opening. She heard the sound of hooves on the cobblestones as the final daylight scouting party returned for the night.

“Captain, we are to imprison this company by order of the King!” one of the March-Wardens called after saluting.

“On what charge?” a young, gentle voice called.

Two stable-hands walked past them, leading three horses back towards the stables.

“I do not know,” the Lorien Elf actually seemed slightly concerned when he glanced at their charges, “I do not think the King wishes to handle them tonight.”

“Oh, well, of course, not. He usually spends these days, and especially evenings, with his family,” the Captain had gone past them and was speaking with the Lorien Elf now, strong arms crossed, “I guess we’ll just put them in a cell.”

Aldaraen and Faerlin shared a glance, then Aldaraen called, “I believe that what we have to say to the King is quite important. Our identity was to be concealed until he was to arrive, because I did not wish for a great excitement to spread quickly, but seeing the situation is beginning to lead down this path, I suppose that the entire Palace will know of our returning before even he.”

The Lorien Elves cast him confused glances, but all eyes turned back to their Captain when he stopped mid-command, staring at the small company closely.

It was obvious that some sort of memory came back to him and he exclaimed, eyes growing wide, “We cannot imprison this company! Do you not know who they are? This is Prince Aldaraen and his family, younger brother to Lord Thranduil, you fools! You have my greatest apologies, my lord, for even I did not recognize your face, and I have looked upon it far more than my companions.” 

The Captain was before Aldaraen in a moment, kneeling, as the other Lorien Elves followed his example in embarrassed shock, lowering themselves.

Aldaraen’s ears turned red and he said, “R-Rise, March-Wardens of Lorien. I apologize, Captain, for I recognize you not.”

“As expected, for it has been many, many years,” the Lorien Elf turned his shining, blue gaze to Alinor and he finished gently, “I departed your Realm because of the difficulties you were having with the Avari, and I…and I left behind the closest companion I have ever had, my lord. I see she does not know me.”

“I know you now,” Alinor said softly, her own eyes wide, and she felt her knees weaken from nervousness, “I…The last time we met I was nearly taller than you, and your face was still very young. You are quite different now, but…I knew your eyes instantly, March-Warden.”

The Lorien Elves stared in surprise when she made a joyful noise and he laughed, and she leapt forward to embrace their Captain, throwing her arms about his neck. “I cannot even tell you how much I have missed you, Haldir!” she exclaimed, then laughed and added, “Look, I must stand on my very tiptoes in hugging you. How you’ve changed!”

“Ali’, you’ve changed all the more,” he said quietly, giving her a small smile and shaking his head slightly, “Were it not for your irritated expression, I fear I would not have recognized you either.”

“You lie,” she pushed him playfully, and, for once, he didn’t move. 

“Aldariil, this is Haldir…he was my best friend when we were very young,” Alinor was tripping over her words in her own excitement. There was so much to say. She laughed when she saw the almost taken aback stare her younger brother was giving her friend, “We trained together for many years.”

“You have a brother,” Haldir sounded amazed, but Aldariil did not expound on his identity quite yet, still looking overwhelmed and slightly suspicious when Alinor and the strange Lorien Elf hugged tightly again.

“You came back! You’re late, but you came back!”

Alinor heard the twins, particularly Earathran, long before she saw them pushing through the Lorien Elves, bright sapphire eyes round.

“Darn’! Ear’!” she actually covered her mouth for a moment before exclaiming, “By the Valar, you are as tall as your father! And you’re Sergeants!” 

Earathran hugged her first, roughly, and he snickered, “Yes, and you’re as short as your mother. Truly, Ali’, I thought you’d be taller.”

Darnuigar rolled his eyes and he hugged her more gently, reflecting his nature, and he said, “Welcome home, Ali’. We have missed you terribly.”

“Where is Minerva?” Alinor asked, and Darnuigar answered, 

“She will be here shortly. She always meets me after I return from missions. It is just her way.”

“You?” Alinor asked slowly, and Earathran laughed,

“Oh, you weren’t here for the most stupendous news!”

Darnuigar shook his head again and sighed as he interrupted his brother, saying, “Minerva and I have been wed for many years now.”

“I always wanted you two together!” Alinor exclaimed, and Darnuigar actually laughed loudly, saying,

“Well, it happened. And Ear’ was shocked. Only because he is hopeless at love, is he not? He cannot understand it.”

There was an odd silence from the louder twin, and Alinor immediately picked it up, although his brother moved past the issue easily, not even noticing. She decided not to mention it.

“Your voices are so different,” she glanced at Haldir, as well, “I cannot believe how much you have changed.”

“Ali’, you’ve changed too. I’m not even going to ask about that hair,” Earathran shook his head teasingly.

“I know. It is golden now. It used to be as light as my own,” Haldir ran a few strands across his hand before looking at her curiously.

“It is a long story,” Alinor said dismissively, waving her hand.

When Minerva arrived, the other She-Elf let out a girlish squeal of happiness and hugged her friend tightly. 

“You are beautiful, my friend!” Alinor held her face gently when they had separated, “I am so happy for you and Darnuigar!”

“Thank you,” Minerva beckoned and a few moments later, a small Elfling joined her. His hair was as auburn as his father’s, and his wide, curious eyes the same, brilliant blue recognizable of the family.

“His son, Earadar,” Minerva brushed hair back from her son’s face and smiled at Alinor, “He looks just like him, no?”

“You have a child!” Alinor exclaimed happily, and Darnuigar joined his wife, putting a gentle hand briefly on her swollen stomach and adding,

“Nearly three, actually. Twins. It is nearly her time. I know, you can hardly tell, can you?”

“You are jesting,” Alinor stared at him, but when he laughed and shook his head, she finished, “Truly, the blessings of the Valar are upon you.”

“The time for marriage has nearly gone for you,” Minerva said to Alinor, “Have you wed, or—“

“Oh, no, nothing of the sort,” Alinor said with a laugh, “Where we lived, there were no Elves to be found, at all.”

“Really?” Haldir’s question sounded odd, but Alinor just nodded at him.

“You, Haldir and Earathran are going to have to pass through a strange circumstance. It is always true,” Darnuigar laughed, “If you are not wed past the age of 100.”

“Elfling’s tales,” Haldir and Alinor said together dismissively, and Earathran laughed, saying,

“You two still talk together.”

“It just proves we never planned anything in the past, as you always accused us of,” Haldir answered with a smile.

Reuniting with her old companions had been far easier than Alinor had foreseen, if not for the shock at the physical changes, and she was very glad.

With a start, she realized that her family was already moving on towards the corridors, Raebidus and Radagast staying very close, and she excused herself to her friends, preparing to follow her family, when a loud voice shouted,

“Alinor!?”

She turned on her heel, green eyes wide, for she knew this voice unmistakably. It was just as she had left it.

She found her cousin at last, standing at the bottom of the opposite staircase, his own eyes wide in disbelief, and she immediately felt like an Elfling again. He had always been an elder brother to her, teaching her so many things, and just the sight of him brought back an onslaught of emotions.

“Legolas!” she exclaimed, and ran towards him, closing the distance quickly, and when they flung themselves into an embrace, he spun her just as easily as he had when she was an Elfling. 

He didn’t let go of her, even when he set her on her feet again. He touched her face several times as if still in disbelief before saying, “You are well and beautiful. No messages ever made it here, and we knew not if you or your family was well, but you finally returned. How you’ve grown.” He was talking very quickly.

“We sent messages, we really did,” Alinor hadn’t felt quite this way for the others, and she felt tears begin to threaten her, “There’s so much to tell you. I was almost scared to see you again, I was afraid of—of what you or Uncle Thran’ would say, but…I cannot believe the joy I feel at seeing your face once more.”

“There is no anger, Ali’. You would not believe how concerned my father was when he did not hear from Uncle—your father, after Yaeran visited those many years back. There is far too much to speak of at this moment,” Legolas hugged her again tightly, “I cannot believe how you’ve changed. I feel that I have missed so much.”

“Aldariil—“

Legolas looked at her questioningly.

“My little brother. There are many things you can teach him, if I haven’t already,” Alinor said teasingly.

“Oh, yes, your brother. I have never even met, nor seen him. Let us catch your family so we can be together when Ada sees you all. He is going to be so surprised,” Legolas held her hand and pulled her forward, but Alinor paused.

She took a moment to press their foreheads together and she said quietly, “Amin mela lle, Legolas. I do not know how I could have been frightened to return here.”

Legolas smiled at her, then leapt forward again in excitement, saying, “Come now, swiftly. Ada and Mama are only in the Gardens and I’m sure one of the twins will tell your family so. There is much to talk about.”

“Far too much. I think you’ll find some things shocking,” Alinor giggled, but didn’t explain when her cousin looked at her curiously, only nudging him playfully.

~

Alinor and Legolas joined them as they entered the Gardens, and the Prince took the lead, taking them where he had left his parents.

During their walk, Legolas informed them that Wharyn was pregnant with her second Elfling.

“You must be joyful, Melamin,” Faerlin said happily, hugging her nephew again about the shoulders, “You always wished for a sibling since you were small.”

Legolas nodded, then looked at Aldaraen as his uncle asked, “Have you gone to Rivendell to complete your schooling yet?”

“Yes, and it didn’t take long,” Legolas glanced at Alinor when she sighed, “I learned quite a bit, especially on healing magic.”

Aldaraen and Faerlin both nodded, then shared a look.

“Here we are. They are down there with the others. Just surprise him,” Legolas paused and motioned towards the stream.

“We used to sit in that exact place to talk,” Aldaraen smiled a little, “I will surprise him. His back is to us, but return to him first, young Legolas.”

Legolas nodded and trotted towards the Elves, stopping and sitting beside his parents, who smiled at him as he told them of something.

“Why am I so nervous?” Aldaraen muttered harshly under his breath to his wife, preparing to walk forward, and she put a hand on his back, answering quietly,

“Because you know you are late in fulfilling your promise to him. He loves you, he does not hate you. You have nothing to be nervous about, Melamin. Truly.”

Aldaraen nodded at her, then glanced at his family, and walked forward until he was slightly behind the group of Elves discussing with one another.

“Your face is glowing, my son. What happened and why are you so pleased?” Wharyn laughed, holding her son’s face briefly.

“One reason, of course, is that I continue to think of being a brother. It is just unbelievable,” Legolas responded with a breath.

Wharyn smiled at him as if she found him humorous, but Thranduil said, “You usually are not so red of face, Legolas.”

Legolas glanced at him as his father looked back towards the river, and he opened his mouth to reply, but Aldaraen said quickly,

“I cannot believe you actually are having a second. It took you long enough!”

Thranduil looked up at Legolas sharply with slightly round eyes in shock, but Legolas was staring at him innocently.

“Behind you, you idiot. You’d think you had ears,” Aldaraen actually snorted a laugh, and the disbelieving shock was clear on his brother’s face before he even turned around, Wharyn doing so also in surprise.

“Good evening, King. I hope you are doing well,” Aldaraen bowed teasingly to him and he could feel himself smiling like a fool, “I hope you did not consume everything because I have had a horrifically long and stressful journey dragging my entire company to these Halls, and I am starving.”

Thranduil’s mouth was open, staring at him, but he leapt to his feet in one movement and threw himself at his brother, laughing, “You idiot!”

He hugged him much tighter than Aldaraen had expected and he lost most of his breath, but he didn’t mind. He held his sibling just as tightly.

“Is it really you? I thought you were never coming back,” Thranduil muttered, and Aldaraen sniffed back the horrific feeling of tears before he answered, 

“Well, we had a little holdup, but we made it.”

“You little rat! That is why you were so happy!” Wharyn exclaimed to her son, and he laughed when she slapped his arm lightly. She happily embraced Faerlin when the She-Elf reached them, and immediately the two of them began to speak.

Aldaraen’s Elflings waited patiently behind their father until he and Faerlin had been greeted, then Aldaraen motioned them forward.

“Alinor?” Thranduil stared at her, “By the Valar, you are absolutely beautiful. Aldaraen, her hair has darkened even as yours when she matured!”

“It was not natural,” Alinor said quickly, and she smiled when her uncle hugged her, “It is good to see you again, Uncle Thran’.”

“You do not remember me that well, do you?” Thranduil smiled at her sadly, “That is alright. I expected such.”

Alinor felt slightly guilty, but she didn’t know how to voice her feeling, so she embraced Wharyn when her aunt approached her, instead.

“This is your son?” Thranduil gazed down at Aldariil in wonder, and Aldaraen responded,

“Yes. He was born in the Iron Hills. He has never seen this Realm before.”

“He looks like Faerlin,” Thranduil smiled and glanced at his brother, “Is he just as friendly?”

Aldariil giggled, and Aldaraen answered with a laugh, “Perhaps. He will warm up to you.”

“Aldaraen, you look so healthy,” Wharyn said, touching his arm, “When you left us, you were pale as snow and quite thin.”

“I know. You’ve really filled out,” Thranduil laughed, pushing him in the chest, “Your cheeks are red and your eyes healthy. It seems your health really has bettered.”

“It has. It is from farm-work,” Aldaraen rubbed his arms self-consciously, “I grew to enjoy the labor because it took my mind from other things. It will probably be difficult without so much sunshine and the political work I’m sure you need aid with.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Thranduil smiled at him, then seemed to remember something and he added, “The Wizards and Man wouldn’t happen to be part of your company, would they?”

“The Wizards and Raebidus, yes. Radagast and Raebidus are with me, but I believe you took the others in custody,” Aldaraen laughed, “I do not blame you. Gandalf must’ve been rather loud.”

“The Grey one? Oh yes, he was awful,” Thranduil blinked as if he were tired, “So they are Wizards, then?”

“Yes. They’re not too awful once you get to know them,” Aldaraen said, then beckoned Radagast and Raebidus forward, “Radagast is the youngest of the three. I enjoy his company the best, I have found.”

Radagast smiled at him and bowed before Thranduil, who said, “Yes, he seems far more reasonable than the others.”

“They are all quite reasonable and wise, but if you found yourself on Gandalf’s bad side, he might have been a little…huffy, you might say?” Aldaraen smiled, then pulled Raebidus forward and finished, “And this is Raebidus Elf-Friend.”

Thranduil opened his mouth to greet him, but he paused, staring at him.

Aldaraen heard Raebidus swallow, and Thranduil said, 

“Aldaraen, he—“

“I know, Thran’. He is Raebdon’s son,” Aldaraen replied before his brother could finish, and Thranduil looked at him with wide eyes.

“What is he doing in your company?” he asked, then finished, “Do you not remember what his father—“

“His heart is not poisoned, as Raebdon’s had been. I have found the finest of companions in this Man, and there is no reason to distrust him,” Aldaraen made a hand motion towards him that Raebidus did not recognize, “He has many a tale he may share with you on his father’s, and Garran’s, end. He knew nothing of his parent’s history.”

“This appearance is very odd to me, Brother, and I know you will think I am crazy, but I believe I saw Garran’s very likeness in the Forest today,” Thranduil said carefully, “If you say this Man can be trusted, then he can stay with us. Perhaps it is no coincidence. I hope I may get to know him and hear his tales, as well.”

Aldaraen nudged Raebidus, and he replied quickly, “Of course you may, my lord. I wish nothing more than for the brother of Aldaraen to find me as worthy a companion as he.”

Thranduil nodded at him, but said nothing further.

Raebidus was glad Aldaraen made no mention of his capabilities in magic. He hoped he could introduce it himself.

“You probably saw Garrik in the Wood, actually,” Aldaraen laughed, going back to what his brother had said earlier. He paused and frowned when he saw Thranduil’s expression, and he finished, “Thran’, where exactly is…Garran’s…likeness?”

“You know him, as well?” Thranduil asked, and looked surprised when Aldaraen’s family stared at him worriedly.

“Where is he? You didn’t harm him, did you?” Faerlin pressed, and Thranduil answered,

“We put him in a more heavy cell to be guarded—“

“Thranduil, take me to him, please,” Aldaraen seemed hurried, “I’m frightened of what the Guard might do to him if they take him for Garran’s likeness, as well. Especially if they have reason to hate him.”

“We’ll wait for you here so we may continue speaking,” Wharyn motioned to her husband, “Take whomever you will.”

“Faerlin, you know how tight it can get below, so will you stay here with the others, please?” Aldaraen asked, and when his wife nodded, he urged his brother into a trot and followed him.

~

“Oh, finally! Someone with some sense!” Gandalf’s voice called from a cell as they passed it, and when he finished, “Or not!” at their passing, Aldaraen called,

“We’ll return for you in a moment, Gandalf. Patience, my friend!”

“Watch yourself! That is about the cruelest and the rudest Officer you will ever meet!” Gandalf called after them, “He’ll throw you in prison for no better reason than for a laugh!”

Aldaraen glanced at Thranduil with a small smile, but his brother rolled his eyes.

“He would be down here, someplace,” Thranduil paused at the very lowest level of the Mirkwood stronghold, “I did not bring him here myself, so I am not sure. Why, again, is this Avari so important to you? Do not misunderstand me, I do not hold such strong hate for the Race anymore, but for one to take pity on their dark leader--”

“He is not Garran,” Aldaraen slid past him, and, being in such a position with his brother, he could not help feeling like an Elfling again for a moment, “Let us just find him and all will be explained.”

Aldaraen trotted down the corridor only for a few seconds before arriving at his sought destination.

“—killed both my parents, you know, and my elder brother, and the youngest was never found—“ the Guard that was standing in the cell was saying, his voice trembling as he spat out the memory that Garrik’s appearance had obviously brought back to him, “I do not understand why we even keep you alive instead of just—“

“N'alaquel ndu ar' uma il- crona ho,” Aldaraen snapped himself and the Guard turned and stared at him in surprise before lowering himself respectfully.

Aldaraen didn’t acknowledge him as he stepped into the cell, Garrik speaking for the first time and calling, “Aldaraen?”

“Garrik,” Aldaraen frowned when he realized that the young Avari was chained tightly the wall, his arms pulled completey back behind him, “Garrik, are you alright?”

“Yes,” Garrik definitely sounded frightened and Aldaraen groaned inwardly. What a wonderful first impression for the young Elf.

“Unchain him,” Aldaraen motioned impatiently to the Guard, who approached him in surprise.

Aldaraen was not upset at the Guard for his words, for there was reason for his anger, but he took in his breath when he saw the trickle of dried blood under Garrik’s nose.

“Did he hit you?” Aldaraen asked tightly, but the Guard and Garrik both remained silent, so he repeated, “Garrik, did he hit you?”

“No, I fell,” Garrik replied finally, lowering his black eyes, “We were ambushed by Wargs and I hit the ground rather hard.”

Aldaraen glared briefly at the silent Guard, backing away so that he could unchain the Avari.

“Aldaraen, who is that?” Thranduil muttered, but Aldaraen said,

“Patience, Thran’.”

“I’m sorry, Aldaraen, it was my fault that we were detained in this manner. I threw caution to the wind in my rush to find Raebidus,” the level of stress in Garrik’s young voice was growing, and Aldaraen embraced him, making Thranduil raise his eyebrows in further surprise.

“I’m sorry you were treated this way,” Aldaraen said quietly, but Garrik shook his head quickly, answering,

“No, no. I understand why they react this way. It is alright,” Garrik actually glanced fearfully at the Guard, and Aldaraen felt a touch of anger, “Is Raebidus alright?”

“He is. Where are your things?” Aldaraen asked, and Garrik shrugged.

“They will be returned,” Thranduil said quickly, then he added, “May I ask, then, who you are?”

“He is Garrik Aldarion, StarGazer,” Aldaraen responded, pulling the young Elf forward to his side, “And he will be as welcome here as Alinor and Aldariil. I know you will grow to accept him. He is the finest young Elf I have ever met.”

“He is your son?” Thranduil exclaimed in shock, and Garrik laughed nervously, wiping at his nose as he replied,

“I was adopted into his House.”

Thranduil glanced at Aldaraen, then said quickly, “Garrik, I am so sorry for the way you were treated. It was wrong…”

“No, my lord, you have every right,” Garrik answered, “I completely understand why my presence brought the reaction that it did.”

Thranduil felt guilty, to his own surprise, having expected this Avari Elf to be more pompous and withdrawn, and he stammered, “Well, I h-hope that I learn how you came to be adopted by my…by my younger brother.”

Garrik only nodded.

“Let’s go get the others,” Aldaraen herded Garrik into the corridor before mouthing, “It’s okay” to his brother.

“Um, Garrik,” Thranduil really was surprised at the humbleness of this Elf as he turned and looked at him almost happily, even after what had passed between them, “Garrik, I have a few Elves I would be pleased if you met, lad.”

Aldaraen looked at Thranduil expectantly, but his brother smiled at them both, saying, “After we join our family, I’ll send for them.”

~~~


End file.
